Friday, January 28, 2011

Depositing $1 & ACT round 2

Annie transferred N dollars to my bank account today, to pay one of my credit card bills.  That's the number that I told her, even though it was actually N dollars and 60 cents.  Since I'm too pathetic to have enough money in my account to cover that 60 cents, I had to deposit $1 into an ATM today.  "Is your broke ass seriously depositing $1 in me right now?" says the ATM.  Fuck you, ATM.

Ever wonder how well you'd do if you got to take those standardized, high school tests again?  It just so happens that I got to retake the English/Reading section of the ACT today.  I went to an interview at a tutoring place.  They specialize in ACT/SAT tutoring, but also teach classes in the subjects.  I went there to be a math tutor, but they asked if I was comfortable teaching the english/verbal skills, also, since it would get me more hours.  They offered to give me an old test, to see how I would do now.  I agreed, and took it on the spot.  I'll get the score on Monday.  Let's hope I at least score better than 17-yr-old RoB.  I highly doubt that I'll take the tutoring position, since they want me to give up the rest of my weekends through June.  No thanks.

While walking to pick up Annie, I saw a homeless lady in a fur coat wrestle away a cane from a fellow homeless man.  He looked like he could really use the cane afterward.  I thought I was done with funny homeless incidents after moving out of homeless alley in L.A.  Apparently not.



Have we ever discussed how I've long felt about the word douchebag?  Honestly, it's just not offensive enough.  The bag is warm and holds cleaning solution.  That's not so bad.  The nozzle is the part with the shit job.  Next time you are standing next to that frat boy with his collar popped, call him a douche nozzle.  That's what the fucker deserves.
Me, as a douchebag

Thursday, January 27, 2011


I have a good feeling that my current situation will be the worst, financially, I will ever be in.  Just so I can look back at this in 10 years and remember how bad it was:

As of today:
My Bank Account: $0.36
My Savings Account: $12.20
My Gold Card: $1,996.70 / $2,000.00
My Southwest Rewards Card: $9,504.80 / $9,400.00
My PNC Card: $6,217.73 / $6,200.00
I own my car, but I have student loans that I don't even want to look at.

I have a job offer at KAPL.  I guess I can count PowerWorks as a job offer, but it was crap.  He did, however, make it sound like I could intern, and I'm interviewing tomorrow for a tutoring job.  Things will hopefully never get this bad again.

Don't use credit, kids,

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

My Family

You ever see those crazy southerners on TV talking about aliens or floods or 'nados in their curlers and mumus?  Ever wonder what the rest of their family thinks of them?  Are they all that fucked up?  I always pictured they were a band of rednecks roaming the countryside like the Beverly Hillbillies.  Then it happened to me.

Apparently my cousin is suing a firefighter for allowing him to run into a pump truck.  It was interesting and twisted enough that it got picked up by the local news.  My lethal aunt enters stage right to tell the reporters to fuck off.  This is a great example of the dysfunction I told you all I grew up with:

Did I Ever Tell You...

The most significant July 4th memory I have was at the house featured in that news footage.  There was a big, all-day barbecue (most likely a hobo dinner, which I refuse to explain).  It turned into a drunken brawl.  The kids ran over (we had been hanging out across the street at my mom's boyfriend's).  In an attempt to break up the (at this point, bloody) fighting, my cousin (a girl) punched her dad in the face, my mom's boyfriend's daughter was swinging around a baseball bat, and I pushed down and sat on my mom (who was getting her ass kicked).  My mom leaned up and bit the back of my arm.  Hard.  I didn't hit her, but I remember wanting to.  I don't think I've ever been so mad in my life, before or since.  I got over it in the typical "don't take it personally, she's drunk" that those of us from dysfunctional families come to be skilled at.

In a discussion with my aunt in Chicago about rather I should take the current job offer or not, I mentioned that I felt bad about dragging Annie away from all her family here, in northern California.  She laughed it off, saying that she didn't really know what a strong family bond was like.  She knew I understood where she was coming from, because I feel the same way.

This footage is one of the reasons I don't want kids,

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Job Offer!

Yesterday I got my first real job offer.  I have 2 weeks to consider it.  It would drag me out to upstate New York.  It takes a little pressure off my shoulders knowing that I have something, and that my life will be decided within the next 2 weeks, but the offer wasn't good enough for me to feel like it solved everything.

Here's some math, without getting specific, because it's rude to discuss money:
I figured out beforehand that I would absolutely accept an offer of X dollars, (though it was 6.5% below what an ideal offer would be, according to my brain).
I also told myself that I would seriously consider anything within 3% of the acceptable offer.
The offer was within 5%.  So, you see, it's not so low that I should flat-out refuse, but it's not where I saw myself accepting.  Everything else about the job seems right, it's just a money game.

Still actively looking for jobs.  Even if I accept this first offer, I'll be in the Bay Area for a few months while my new security clearance gets processed.

I'm pretty disappointed about my Bears.  It's also discouraging that I can't, in good conscience, root for the Steelers in the Super Bowl.  So, for a few hours of one day only, only to support the NFC North, I'll root for the (Fudge) Packers.  I continue to add things to storage and unpack things at Annie's.  Maybe I'll be less anxious in a day or so.  Just baked some blueberry muffins.

"... has some life decisions that [I] need to make..." (HR person of offering company),

Monday, January 24, 2011

Goodbye L.A. & DIETY

I'm fully moved out of my apartment in L.A.  From now on, when I'm there, it's a vacation.  The weekend was spent partying with all my favorite SoCal peeps.  Friday night took us to a grilling/drinking party in Redondo Beach.  The food was (is always) amazing, and the whiskey was flowing.  Annie and I had to sleep there.  Saturday took us to the U.S. Men's Soccer game at the Home Depot Center vs. Chile.  (Their song is still stuck in my head; America needs soccer songs!  "Vamos! Vamos Chillenos!")  We then drove to Pasadena for a birthday party at a really swanky bowling alley.  The homemade devil's food cupcakes with mint frosting were amazing!!

Some chick yelled at me for putting garbage on the curb when I was cleaning my apartment.  She accused me of trashing the neighborhood.  Really?  The homeless people that hang out, dragging loud carts around, trading goods, and fighting over alcohol probably drag down the property values a little lower.  How about the 2 pot dispensaries?  Eat me lady.

Now I need to find a quick way to make $$.

Did I Ever Tell You...
Granny once tried to drive a riding lawnmower up the wall of our garage.  You see, we fastened a wooden block on the brake so that she could reach it.  She regularly drove the lawnmower around the neighborhood.  She lost her license for drinking and driving 4 decades ago, and never got it back.  Apparently, after returning from a rather inspiring party at a friend's house, she hit the brake and knocked the wooden block off.  So, as she was pulling it into our garage, she just kept going.  There were some small boxes against the wall, that she managed to use as a ramp, as she drove it up the wall, and over onto herself.  A cop drove by and saw a smoking lawnmower, flipped over, with a flailing, old lady trapped underneath.  She claims that she saw her life flash in front of her eyes.

Keep your license, it may save your life,

Friday, January 21, 2011

Post #10: Finished I-5 Checklist & Last of the Potty Stories

There were 3 things that I had urges to do after driving I-5 from L.A. to S.F. and back so many times:
1) Eat at Andersen's Pea Soup
2) Eat at Taste of India
3) Stop at the Vista Point and see why it's there.

Today, I checked off the last of those.  I stopped at the Vista Point on the way down.  Honestly, not so spectacular.  There's a little plaque there about the aqueduct, but, as I suspected, you can't see much more than you can see while driving.  I think there's one more on the northbound side.  Maybe I'll try it, too, on the way back.  If you've ever driven I-5, you would understand the interest in both Andersen's and the sketch Indian place.  Both were nothing special.  Andersen's kinda sucked; it smelled like a Port-a-Potty.

I received a great comment in my email today referring to the post "Continue to Fall Apart".  I have to share it:
the worst thing about shitting your pants is you never ever get over it.  for the rest of your life you don't trust a single fart or a relaxation of the sphincter.  it's like... oh damn did i just...? no.. ok, that one was safe, phew.  Post Pantsshitting Stress disorder, i think it should be named.
Hopefully, the following can be the last two disgusting stories for a while.  Maybe it helps that they will involve a dog.  First of all, Angel (our dog) took a poop yesterday and commenced to act really weird and bite at his butt.  When I lifted up  his butt fur and looked back there, he had grassy poop hanging out.  I had to use the plastic bag that I would be cleaning the poop up with to pull it out of his ass.  If this were a regular occurrence, I'd probably give him to the humane society.

A related story.  Annie's birthday is just a few days before Christmas.  Her sister just graduated college, so it turned out that only her father, her, and I were together for her actual birthday.  I tried to make her a layered funfetti cake with glass pie plates (all I could find), and it turned out a mess.  Skip forward a few weeks, and I decided to make fancy funfetti cupcakes with cute frosting and candles.  I arranged them all cutesy on our little dining room table.  It was technically for her roommate's birthday, but it was going to be my way of making up for the shitty birthday cake.  While out for her roommate's birthday dinner (sushi!), Angel hopped up on the table and ate everything!  Every single cupcake, all the wrappers, all the frosting, and all the candles.  When we got home, he was laying on the floor moaning.  He was the fattest I've ever seen him.  We commenced to making him throw up (hydrogen peroxide ingestion) until there were huge piles of cake batter all over our lawn.  It was the best smelling puke I'll ever clean up!

Starting to get phone calls about tutoring jobs in the bay.  I'll return those tomorrow.  Also posted a craigslist ad with a bunch of stuff I'd like to get rid of before returning to the Bay this weekend.  If you're interested:

I managed to make it all the way to L.A. without peeing in a bottle, so let's hope that the potty stories are over for a while.

No promises,

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Pee & Ugly People

I've apparently started a bad habit.  I promise to stop once I bring this last load up from L.A. Sunday night.  The worst part was Annie got off in about 15 minutes.  She apparently doesn't check her text messages while driving.  Geez, people.  We have this technology to use!  By the way, Bay Area traffic is almost as frustrating as L.A. traffic.  I also memorized that some kid was abducted in a Silver Toyota Corolla license plate 6BHW445; it was all over the freeway during my ridiculous amount of driving today.

Back to pee, whenever I do it in my car, I feel so redneck.  It reminds me when I drove to Chicago with a friend in high school, borrowing my grandpa's truck.  We found a jug of pee in the door.  Upon returning, he explained that when he's driving to work and throwing back a few brewskies (yes, simultaneously), he prefers to pee in a jug as opposed to stopping to pee somewhere.  Awesome.  No big surprise for a guy who has a big detergent tub in our garage for peeing into.  I'm so white trash!  Guess this gets put into the same category as peeing in the shower: weird urinating habits.  Maybe I do have some sort of problem...

On another note, I forgot how funny looking the people were in the bay area.  You get so spoiled in L.A.  Everyone is so hot!  I mean, at least people in the bay are skinny (skinny, not in good shape) unlike the herds of buffalo you find in the Midwest.  They're just funny looking.  I know that I'm plain ugly, and that I'm certainly not sporting a six-pack, but it is us ugly people that end up being the shallowest, since we learn quite young how much physical attractiveness factors into the ease of daily life.

Applied to 8 more jobs today, totaling 31 so far.  Heard back from 3 tutoring places, but I haven't made any commitments.  I'm driving to L.A. tomorrow, so I have some time off from the job search.  We have tickets to the U.S. soccer match, and I'm dying to go to Scarpetta before leaving L.A. permanently.  I'm considering flying back to MI to visit granny (and my cuz) who are both in the hospital now.  I think that's it for my life today.

Funny looking,

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Edwin & Eloise

Meet Edwin & Eloise.

It's a tradition in Annie's family that all the girls take off the day after Christmas and spend the day shopping.  They go around trying to take advantage of 50% off all the crap that's left after the holiday shopping season.  Two years ago, Annie's mom walked back in with Edwin & Eloise, the evil, possessed, stuffed deer that spend the nights walking around and whispering cruel things in my ear.

This year, Annie's house was so packed with people that we had to spend a few nights on her living room floor next to Edwin & Eloise.  I kept covering them with clothes so that they wouldn't be hovering over me while I slept.  Several times, the clothes were removed before the next morning.  This was the first solid proof that I had that these screwed up stuffed dolls were alive.  Nobody believed me.

Finally, a few days ago, I returned by myself to find them doing the nasty.  So, I snapped a few pics on my iPhone in hopes of once, and for all, proving to the world that these demon deer should be destroyed!

Other than that, my life remains a whirlwind, though Tahoe was a nice break.  I've applied to 17 jobs so far, and I have at least 6 more to apply to today.  I've spoken on the phone to a lab that plans on giving me an offer before the end of the week.  I am also meeting with a tutoring company tomorrow.  So, things are moving on that front.

Granny ended up back in the hospital, ICU specifically.  Today she was moved out of ICU, but things don't sound well.  I'm considering flying back home next week to spend some time.  Maybe seeing me will help her along, cuz I am her favorite person in the world.  My cousin (my age) just ended up in the same hospital for thyroid problems.  What's going on people???

I took a skating (type of skiing) lesson up at Tahoe, and it's something that I'd like to try a few more times.  I regularly stride when I'm cross-country skiing up there, but learning the faster and more modern style could be fun.  I'm considering doing the Great Ski Race in March, which is a 30k race.  We'll see if I'm in good enough shape by then.  I'm playing tennis with an old friend today, so that's a start.

That's enough for today.  It's hard to blog in Tahoe, but I should have a few consistent days of it this week before I return to L.A. to get the last of my stuff!

Still scared to fart,

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Continue to Fall Apart

First of all, I'm wearing my sexy boxers.  It's not even a special occasion.

I've spent the last hour trying to get Annie started on a blog.  She's jealous of the overnight popularity of mine.  We spent the whole time trying to come up with a name for hers, which led to me damn near falling asleep before getting to write this for you.  (Name was never decided and she's already given up.)

Yesterday, after assembling a MULLIG from IKEA to put in Annie's room for some of my stuff, we packed and drove up to Tahoe.  Along the way, Annie got off at the wrong exit for In-n-Out.  She furiously defended that a Subway had taken the spot of a previous In-n-Out, before getting off at the next exit to find the In-n-Out she had originally been in search of.  If a guy does that, he's a neanderthal that doesn't ask for directions.  A girl does it and it's a simple mistake.  "They have the same curved brick things at the turnaround!"

As of today, I've applied to 15 jobs on Craigslist.  No return emails.  I'm not ready to move to or anything for serious jobs yet.  They continue to be wine or tutoring related.  Random real jobs and food things have been thrown in, too.  Annie's dad asked me what my plan was at Happy Hour this evening.  I've got nothing... "Mooch off your daughter?"

Those of you following might think I've temporarily lost my mind.  Sometimes I wonder the same thing.  The first few days of this new journey certainly haven't made me more sane.  Today, my body decided to follow my brain off a cliff.  Annie took off to downhill ski all day, and left me home alone.  I had a pounding headache and decided to shovel the driveway to get some much needed physical activity.  When I was hungry enough I came back inside and made myself some fried turkey sandwiches.  I was in my room deciding between a shower and returning to my shoveling duties when it happened.

I shit my pants.  Not a lot; just a dribble.  Nonetheless, I shit my pants.  There's debate rather or not the turkey was bad, or I may have been super dehydrated, but the end result doesn't change the fact that, though I just wanted to relieve a little pressure in my crampy stomach, I shit my pants.  Seriously.  Annie, you check the washer for my wet shorts (I immediately washed them in the sink).

You can only laugh if you've never, ever in your life had it happen to you.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

It's Official

I'm officially not a registered student at UCLA, though I think they want $2000 from me for withdrawing.  Don't see that happening anytime soon.  I departed UCLA yesterday with my shiny new diploma (master of science) in hand.  Keys are turned in and office is clear.

Granny also came home from the hospital last night.  I haven't been able to reach her for the past few days (things must still be a whirlwind there), but I'm trying again in 20 minutes.  Nobody has told me anything as far as prognosis (that the right word?), so I have no clue how she's actually doing.  It's ok, I haven't really told them anything of my situation for most of the same reasons, so we'll just keep movin' on.  By the way, thank you, seriously, to all who ignored my request and offered your sympathies for her anyway.  It meant just a little bit more that you cared so much that you didn't care rather or not I wanted to hear it.

I drove another carload of stuff up yesterday.  On the way I had 4 big realizations:
- I can list all the big landmarks of I-5 from L.A. to Livermore, and they're pathetic.
- I think I'm technically a transient now.
- The guy that I could see in my rear view mirror looked really awkward while he was picking his nose.  I should probably stop picking my nose when I drive.
- A long time ago, I spoke with a friend about how he wanted to get each level of college degree at different universities; bachelor's, master's, and doctorate at 3 different schools.  If I return to college somewhere and get a PhD in the future, I will have done that, without really trying.  I'll probably also pick up an extra 2 master's degrees along the way.  Crazy.

I have no clue where all of my stuff is going to go.  Annie's apartment is nice, and cute, but in no way can her room handle 2 people's stuff.  I'm swinging by IKEA today to see what magic they can do.  Today, I also have to call and start canceling everything and changing my address.  It's also time to start emailing people and notify them that I've officially left Los Angeles.  I hate emails like that.  I'm so awkward.

Tuesday, my apt was so busy.  2 insurance adjustors showed up to take pictures and talk with me.  A lady showed up to turn off our gas.  Apparently, it never got switched over to my name.  I gave her $40 and she just left.  She was the most unprofessional person I've dealt with in a long time: "I don't give a shit," she says.  The last knock on the door was the most surprising.

I opened the door and my 2 closest L.A. friends were standing there.  They had taken off work to come and make sure I was ok.  They had heard a little from my blog, but they wanted me to tell them to their faces.  It was heartwarming knowing that there were a few people in L.A. that cared that much for me.  They offered their houses, $, help, and had the courtesy to not yell at me, even though they might not agree with me giving up on my dream of being Dr. Rob, for now.  They took me out to go see The Fighter, which was amazing.  We also went to Ugo's Wine Bar in Culver City, which was also really fun.

They also made me swore that I wouldn't blog about it.  Come on.  I blogged about DIWMGf.  It's not like anybody reads this anyway.  I just wanted to show how nice my closest friends are, maybe to help defend why I only have a few close friends.

Don't get pissed,

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

What Doesn't Kill You...

... will probably come back and get you next time.  Granny, who was rushed to the hospital on Christmas Day was diagnosed with lung cancer this morning.  One of her lungs collapsed during the biopsy.  Sounds like things are a big mess.  Please don't send your sympathies to me.  I appreciate it, but keep it to yourself.  I'm not a very emotional being, and it makes things awkward.  I'll just assume that you all send well wishes.

I'm far from macho, but I rarely show any emotion other than happiness.  I cried when I was 16 while being a pall bearer for a close friend.  I don't think I've cried since then, and it'll take something at least as bad as that to get a big stir out of me.  I don't ask for help.  Annie hates that I hide all emotion with humor.  It's the most guy thing I do.  Maybe one day I'll be mature enough to sob like Urban Meyer or John Boehner, since they are such respectable people...

I filled out the paperwork to take a Leave of Absence from UCLA today.  That was a hassle (still not done).  I have absolutely no intention of ever returning to L.A., but Annie demanded I have a backup plan.  I have no clue how much $$ I'm going to have to pay UCLA, but it doesn't sound like they'll let me off easy.  Let's make sure that those grad students don't leave without overwhelming debt, after all!  I also spent 59 infuriating minutes on hold trying to change my jury duty.

I packed up my office at school.  It's sad that roughly 1/6 of my possessions are text-/notebooks for college classes.  Today was the first big wave of "what the fuck am I doing?"  My whole life has been pretty easy.  Big decisions have usually been between two things I'm good at, and most big moves were lined up so that I could dance through life without much stress.  Considering where I've come from, I've been more than successful.  However, in just a week or two, my credit cards will be maxed out, my checking/savings accounts will be zero, and I will not have a job.  That's really scary.  It also makes me fear that my ever-interesting life is going to become mundane and boring like everyone else's.  I know having an interesting life (like I feel I have had for years) is mostly what you make of it, but I have had a lot of experiences to work-with/choose-from throughout the past decade.

I decided to watch True Grit in Westwood Village to kill time until my office would be empty.  I really enjoy good Westerns!  I invited some friends.  When I showed up, the theater was a TV show set.  Oh L.A., you never fail me when I'm worried about being boring.  I was disappointed that I couldn't see the movie, until I asked the theater across the street (where The Tourist is playing) what was being filmed, and they slipped in that they took True Grit for the day.  I went to the 5:10 show and was the only one in there, cuz everyone was too busy gawking outside to find the movie.  Tourists.
The TV Set, an abstraction from my crappy iPhone camera
Working with AAA insurance to replace some of my damaged stuff, and I'm loading my car up again for another trip to the Bay.  My next departure depends entirely on other people doing their jobs quickly.  I sliced my finger on the sharp edge on the box for cutting reynolds wrap.  Apparently, I shouldn't scoff at all the ridiculously stupid labels that dumb people require on everything.

No job offers yet,

Monday, January 10, 2011

Who's the Boss?

She thinks she's in charge of everything now, just because she's going to be totally supporting me for a few weeks (months?).  She was inspecting my boxers to see which ones were ready to be trashed when she held up my faves, asking why they weren't all fucked up where my balls sit like the rest of the pile.  "They're my sexy boxers, I barely wear them."  Let's be honest, I rarely wear any underwear at all any more.

I made it back to L.A.  Almost missed the I-5 turnoff cuz I was changing CDs.  It's ok.  I whipped over 3 lanes doing 85, so I was cool.  I should probably take a few days off of the 6 hour commutes.

I applied to 7 Craigslist jobs today.  Most of them involved pouring wine, but there was one fun one where I could drive around the bay area and teach kids about physics using Legos.  Sweet.

Had a strange smell on my hands all day.  I thought it was musty or rust from my apartment debacle.  5 hours into the drive I realized I just didn't wash my hands well enough after chopping onions for chilaquiles this morning.  I smell like an old, wooden cutting board, and there's no fixing it.  Awesome.

Only other good story from my tumultuous life today is going to get me killed.  I was DIWMGf.  I stopped in the middle, got up, walked around, and finally found my chapstick.  I put it on my lips and went back to business.  I need chapstick to live.  I need chapstick more than chubby kids need saturated fat.  Don't worry, she wasn't too put off.  She spent most of the time playing tug-of-war and fetch with the dog.  I don't need her attention anyway.

Wow, that's a little much.  I assured you that my brain had no filter, and I really shouldn't allow my fingers to type what I'm thinking.  Hope you enjoy it all anyway.

Fuck it,

Sunday, January 9, 2011

I'm a Hot Mess

"Those are Gorgeous," says the older, smokey-voiced lady who was walking laps at the rest stop on I-5.  She was referring to my pajama pants.  From afar, they are white with pink and red hearts, with black splotches.  They almost look like I stole my girlfriends pants.  Up close, you realize that the black shapes are silhouettes of naked ladies.  When people comment on them, I always wonder rather or not they actually notice that they are talking about my naked lady pjs.

Today, I woke up on the floor of my living room at 7:45am.  I gave myself just enough time to take a poop before the roach killers showed up to poison my apartment.  I drove the first carload of stuff from L.A. to Oaktown.  I had no clue how scatterbrained the anxiety of having no job or income was going to make me.  I locked my keys in my car the second I stepped out at McDonald's for breakfast.  I was at the In-n-Out stop just north of the Grapevine.  At least I was in a big city... oh wait no.  AAA sent someone nonetheless.

Happy to be done with that, I texted Annie (the gf) 'OTRA' (on the road again) as I was merging back on the freeway.  15 minutes later I was looking on the side of the freeway and realized that I had actually merged onto the wrong freeway.  Going well so far.  I found my way back to the always wonderful I-5.

Just to add a little spice to an already ridiculous drive, I decided that a closed rest stop wouldn't discourage me.  I pee more than a 90-yr-old lady (Annie's convinced I have something wrong with me).  'When you gotta go...'.  I peed in a water bottle while I was driving.  It went rather well.  It be nice to have a ridiculously large penis in those cases, but mine worked well enough.  Heck, it was so fun that I missed the next stop and did the same thing into another bottle.  It turns out that I pee between 9 and 12 oz per each time I pee.  That normal?  Oh well, the things that I-5 teaches you about yourself.

Happy Saturday,

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Bacon-Wrapped & Blog Goggles

Too soon?  I don't really know the rules for how many times I can post in one day.  I'm kinda excited for this blog thing, though.  Technically, it's a new day anyway.

I drank a fair bit at Bigfoot West tonight.  Happy Birthday, Melinda!  Then I drove home.  Bad habit... eat me... they teach us bad things in the Midwest.  Anyway, in between I had 3 servings of the wonderful Venice Blvd creations that are: bacon-wrapped hot dogs.  An older Mexican lady stands in front of the carcineria (?) b/w S&S and Bigfoot selling her delicious wieners.  I get 'em with everything: grilled onions, ketchup, mustard, relish, mayo, and a grilled jalapeno.  I know, right?  $3 each.  Awesome.

So, should have something similar to google's gmail goggles, where I have to do math riddles in order to post after midnight on weekend-nights.  I'd call it blog goggles.  It might help to avoid times like this when I might not be capable of  being witty.

Finally, I tried not to tell a single friend about my current predicament.  Sorry.  I have big problems personally asking for help, and I really didn't want to ruin Melinda's night.  Anyway, I came home after Xmas break to a flooded, moldy, and mildewy room.  Considering that it was the second time this has happened in the shithole apartment I live in, and the fact that I've been considering leaving UCLA for years, it just seemed like a good sign for me to flee La La Land.  I have to get up in 6 hours to let in the roach killers, cuz my apartment is awesome.  These were just the final straws that convinced me to go flop on my girlfriend's couch for the next few months as I figure out where I can get a job.  Let's hope this goes easier than it probably will.  What?  Whatever.

Go Blue.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Real Life Starts Now

Today, I broke my lease to my apartment in Los Angeles.  Immediately afterward, I emailed my faculty advisor at UCLA, and notified him that I was dropping out of school.  This blog is going to help me keep track of my experiences as I learn what it is to be a real person.  I've been a student continuously since kindergarten.

I have plenty of things to complain about, and I probably have some good stories to tell.  I expect that I'll cross the line every now and then.  If you know me, you know that's how I usually roll anyway.  For years my digital signature has been '~RoB'.

From now on, stepping over that awkward social boundary will be RoB-ing the Line.  Tell your friends.  Enjoy.