Undoubtedly, the rest of those who met up in Santa Monica today are eagerly crowding each other's blogs, trying to read what we all wrote about each other. Of course, that was the first thing I did when I got home from my dinner engagement tonight. Sadly, no one actually had any comments about people, all that I've seen so far are some recaps and some pictures. So let me be the first to actually comment, and that's mostly because I don't own a digital camera so I couldn't take pictures. I had a good time. Really. I didn't feel like that much of a misfit either. I got a chance to meet some people who I hadn't met yet in realtime, I got a chance to see some people again that I'd already met realtime, and I got a chance to prove myself to be a total lunatic and sarcastic bastard yet again. We congregated and it took a little while to get us all together (partially due to our own stupidity -- okay, MY own stupidity -- and partially due to the fact that our meeting place was obscured by a large building), then we strolled down the 3rd Street Promenade, then we took over a decent chunk of California Pizza Kitchen. We ate, we drank, I enabled underage drinking, many pictures were taken. Then we wandered back down to Ocean Avenue and sat for a bit while we tried to navigate a lost soul in to join us. At some point, given our utter frustration and warped sense of humor, I took the cell phone and told her to "just go towards the light" -- meaning head west towards the sun, but I believe that "go towards the light" became the battle cry of the afternoon. We wound up at Houston's for a couple drinks and then the party petered out -- it must've since I left at that point. So. That is that, I survived and I plan on doing it again at some point. In the words of Blur, "Woo hoo."

So there was the woman in the huge mid-'80s-era Cadillac who kept blowing her horn while she was stuck behind me while I was waiting at a stop sign to cross a street near my apartment, trying to get me to move over so I could let her pass and make her turn. The thing is, if I moved forward, I'd get my car's front end taken off by the traffic whizzing by on the street. If I moved back, I'd hit her huge-ass car because it was so close to mine that I couldn't see her headlights in my rearview mirror. Maybe if she invested in a smaller car, she could've fit around mine. If she couldn't fit her huge-ass self into a smaller car, maybe she should invest in something to make her smaller. Honking and waving at me wasn't going to make the situation any better. Then there was the guy who was parked right in front of the entrance to my building's parking lot, who had to get out to come back and ask me why he couldn't get in. Apparently, they give licenses to the illiterate here in California because he couldn't read the sign right next his truck that said "MONTHLY PARKING ONLY" when he was simply coming to the building to pick up some papers from an office. He also didn't quite grasp the concept of another entrance that was for non-building workers which I pointed out to him. It took a few tries for the idea to sink in for him. Aside from this, I've been thinking about how long it's been since I've driven a stickshift. It's fun. I miss it. It's also becoming a lost art, from what I understand. Too many cars are sold with automatic transmissions, even the sportier ones. I've had a couple friends ask me if I could teach them how to drive stick. I'd love to get a stickshift car, but the thing is that I play with the radio so much and I don't want to constantly deal with the added distraction of having to pay attention to the gears as well as what's going on on the road. Plus, in a big city, it's not as much fun because you're constantly shifting up to second, then back down to first and stopping, then repeating. I used to date a girl who drove a stickshift, so I'd... ahem... appropriate her car every now and then when I needed my fix.

There are definite perks to my job. And some of them involve me doing dumb things.

A group of very attractive female singers came into our office today to promote their new single. After we watched the video for it, they did an a cappella medley of some of their other songs. While we were taking pictures, I mentioned that I used to sing a cappella as well. So they insisted that I sing for them. After some cajoling, I eventually busted into a rendition of the Housemartins' "Caravan of Love." I think they rather liked it. And my co-workers that were in the room seemed surprised that yes, I really could sing and I wasn't lying when I said I'd been in a group for many years. Though, looking back on it, I can't believe that I sang in front of professional recording artists, two record label executives and some of my bosses at work.

I related it to my best friend over IM later in the day, and the situation reminded me of when I went out with some new friends here in L.A. (who happened to be female) and I said something along the lines of the fact that I wished we went to the bar down the street because they were doing karaoke there and I could prove my coolness. They were gracious and said I was already cool in their eyes, I didn't need to prove anything. But I still feel -- to this day -- like I'm more comfortable behind a couple of CD players or a microphone when I'm meeting new people or hanging out with people, especially female people.

My best friend said that yes, it's natural I should feel that way. Music is my thang. I do it well. It suitably impresses people. It's where I shine, and it's not wrong for me to want to impress people and make them think I'm cool, so it's natural for me to want to use it. Unfortunately, it's when I'm away from it that I feel like I need the crutch. I mean, I'm not socially inept and I can be witty and charming like the rest of them, but it's there where I really stand out. I remember performing with my college a cappella group when we literally packed the coffeehouse to the point where there were people climbing the walls outside to look into through the windows, and the women would absolutely scream for us.

So I guess I'm just going to have to find myself a way to get back behind those CD players and up on that stage. Because it's my thing.

The dooce has returned after a long and apparently needed hiatus. I wonder if she'll respond this time if I e-mail her. We briefly exchanged correspondence before I moved to L.A., and now that I've arrived and she's been here for a while, it'd be cool to meet the person behind the site. Her husband sounds cool too, he's also a fairly frequent read of mine.

In order to remind myself of the wonder that is me, here's another list of 100 Things About Me: 1. I'm not a morning person. By any stretch of the imagination. I'm not really conscious for a half-hour after I wake up. Some people find watching me during that half-hour amusing. I don't find it amusing that they find it amusing. 2. Conversely, it doesn't matter how long I sleep, it matters what time I wake up. I can sleep 10 hours from 10pm-8am and still wake up not feeling rested, but if I sleep 7 hours from 4am-11am, I wake up feeling okay. 3. I will go far out of my way for my friends. I hardly ever say no when someone asks for a favor, and I sometimes don't even need to be asked in order to do something for someone, I'll do it preemptively. 4. I was born in Brooklyn, and so was my dad. I guess the accent is kind of ingrained in me genetically. Though friends say it only comes out when I'm really drunk or really pissed. 5. I'm not a huge fan of dressing up. I love wearing jeans. I look best in dark colors like black and blue, so I tend to wear them a lot. If I were a bazillionaire, I'd still dress like Steve Jobs. 6. There are a handful of cover songs that I actually prefer to the original version. But not many. And I have little respect for bands who have to redo someone else's song in order to get famous. 7. One summer when I was a kid, my parents signed me up for this summer reading contest at a local library. I was so intent on winning and getting it done that I read all these 300 page books by Isaac Asimov. I didn't understand them that much, but I retained enough of the information that I could regurgitate the information and get credit for reading them, and I won. 8. I try to read the newspaper every day, though I hardly ever get to it in the mornings anymore. I used to read it over breakfast, but I've stopped eating breakfast. 9. I'm firmly of the opinion that it should be socially acceptable for men to have some kind of handbag. Or they need to make carpenter's jeans more popular so we can have more pockets. Women get bags to carry all their crap, but all I can put in my pockets are my wallet and my keys. What about my cell phone and my sunglasses case? 10. I'm a huge fan of people with Australian, Irish or English accents. Women with those accents automatically gain attraction points in my book. 11. I'm very audio-oriented. I love listening to people speak if they have good voices. Sometimes I feel like just telling people, "Talk to me. I don't care what you say. I just like listening to the sound of your voice." 12. I'm also very smell-oriented. I like the smell of vanilla. I also like the "fresh" kind of smell when a room's been aired out -- I don't like musty smells. 13. When I sneeze, my wrists hurt. It's the oddest thing and I don't know why it happens, but it's also damn painful. 14. I'm usually warm. I hate being warm, it makes me uncomfortable. I prefer cooler environments. There's currently a war going on at work over how cold I can get the air conditioning vs. a couple of people who are always cold and want it warmer. We still haven't found that happy medium, but I've been roasting over the past few days. 15. Until I moved to Los Angeles seven months ago, I'd never spent more than 4 weeks at a time outside the states of New York, Connecticut or Massachusetts. That's not to say I haven't traveled. I've traveled a fair amount. 16. I drink a lot of water. 17. I use a lot of pop culture references in conversations. I quote a lot of movies. My friends have gotten to realize that, and it unfortunately backfires on me sometimes when I say something funny and they ask me what movie it's from and it's just something I came up with on the spot. Like I'm incapable of being spontaneously funny? 18. I have a bad habit of saying the lines along with the characters in scenes or movies I've seen too many times. I tend to have to watch these scenes or films by myself, otherwise I annoy the hell out of people. 19. I need freedom of travel. I get a little itchy when I need to rely on others for transportation, and I need to have the option to be able to just go someplace whenever I feel like it, even if it's just to the store to pick up a couple groceries. Making it to my 16th birthday to get my driver's license was one of the longest waits of my life. 20. I grew up on Diet Coke, so I'm used to it. I much prefer its taste to that of regular Coke. Many people tell me they think I'm strange when I say this. 21. It pisses me off when people mix up they're/their/there and its/it's. It's just laziness that they never put in the effort to reinforce in their minds which goes with which. My mom's a horrible speller and makes many spelling mistakes, but she always gets those right. 22. I've never broken any bones, nor have I gone to a hospital for any other reason than to say hi to my father. I should have gone when I had my recent episode of trying to break into my own apartment but I didn't know any better, so 2 1/2 months later, the scars are still there on my knuckles and my arm. They'll probably be there forever now. 23. I procrastinate terribly, but I always get everything done by my deadlines. 24. I will always wear glasses. I can't fathom the ability to be able to touch my eyeball trying to put contacts in and take them out. I'm very squeamish about and protective of my eyes. Although my vision's about 20/600, which means I see things clearly at 20 feet that others see clearly at 600 feet. I don't wear huge thick glasses though. 25. I'm also very squeamish about and protective of my ears. 26. I'm not a big fan of confrontations, and I get a sick feeling of dread in my stomach when I get called to the carpet on something. 27. I can't stand people who are overly cute and sweet to the point of saccharin. I need to be with real people who have a bit of dirt in their personalities. 28. I have a hard time discerning whether someone's being sarcastic or is kidding with me over IM or e-mail unless they use emoticons or some other telltale method. 29. I go through sushi phases. I go for weeks when I have to have it several times a week if not once a day, then I get sick of it and can't touch it for a couple of weeks. 30. The sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me was done by a woman I dated for two years. Ironically, she was also the one who made my life an annex of Hell for most of those two years. 31. Besides summer camp, I've only shared a room with someone for one year, and that was my freshman year of college when I had a roommate. Before then and after then, I've always had a bedroom of my own. 32. I really do listen to all kinds of music. A friend saw my CD collection for the first time and asked if a schizophrenic put it together for me. My music collection is my pride and joy. 33. I've gotten two speeding tickets, and they were within a few days of each other. One was in Ohio, where I was going 90 in a 65 zone but the cop ticketed me for going 84 and it cost me $65. The aggravating part was that two days later, I was stopped in Wyoming for doing 84 (again) in a 75 zone -- only 9 miles over the speed limit, and it cost me $90. 34. I have little respect for police officers given the extent to which I've seen them bend the law. Putting on their lights to make it through an intersection when the light has turned yellow or is red, intimidating someone into speeding by riding their bumper on a two-lane highway where the poor guy can't switch lanes and then pulling them over for speeding, that kind of thing. 35. I watched, but did not understand the mass appeal of, Cool Hand Luke. 36. I have a penchant for enjoying really dumb films, like BASEketball or UHF or Dude, Where's My Car?. That's not to say I don't like intelligent films as well. 37. I have an aversion to movie theatre popcorn. I worked in a movie theatre for a summer and one of my jobs every Tuesday was to make popcorn for the week. Now that I know how it's made, I can't eat it. 38. I firmly believe that Homer Simpson can sometimes unwittingly be one of the most brilliant people on the face of the Earth. 39. I'm usually either very early or around 2 minutes late when I'm supposed to show up somewhere at an appointed time. 40. I'm fairly neat, though I'm disorganized in an organized way. When I let things go to hell on my desk or in my room, it's in specific piles of messes. But that doesn't happen too often. 41. I'm a staunch Macintosh advocate. I hate Windows with a passion. 42. I'm a bit of a gadget freak. I've always maintained that I don't grow up, my toys just get more expensive. 43. I started off in college as a computer science major. But then I learned that I had absolutely no aptitude for coding, nor did I want to sit in front of a computer for 60 hours a week writing gibberish. So I switched to the Most Useless Major On the Planet -- Psychology. Then I graduated college and have had several jobs since that have nothing to do with Psychology. 44. I don't sit Indian-style. It's not comfortable for me anymore. I sit yoga-style with one leg on top of the other. And I do that while sitting in chairs too, especially at my desk. 45. I have no idea where I got my singing and acting talent. My parents are two of the most tone-deaf and non-acting-capable people in the world. 46. I learned how to drive stickshift because the vehicles that the radio station I worked for at the time were stickshifts. The station personnel wanted someone to be able to drive the trucks back from events, and I was always the designated driver because I wasn't 21 yet. So they taught me. 47. I can't draw worth a damn. I can sketch geometric shapes pretty well though. 48. Broccoli and cauliflower are two of my least favorite things in the entire world. I hate them. And snakes too. 49. I can read while riding in a car or on a train or on a bus. Many people ask me how I can do it without getting a headache. I don't know, I just can. 50. I often associate -- and get along well with -- people who are several years older than I am. 51. I've never dated a woman my own age. They've either been a couple of years younger than me or several years older than me. 52. I once dated a woman 10 years older than me. Most people don't believe me when I say that for some reason, and I have a real hangup about women who have a hangup about age being a factor in the people they date. Most people think I'm anywhere from 3 to 6 years older than I actually am when they meet me realtime. 53. Just once -- I want to front a rock band in a big venue and feel the glory of having a huge crowd scream for me. 54. I took French in school because the 8th grade French class got to go to Quebec for a weekend. In retrospect, taking Spanish would've come in a lot more handy and I wish I'd done that instead. 55. I have an old-school original Nintendo. It still works. And I can still beat Super Mario Brothers and Contra, and I still remember the codes to get the extra lives in Contra. 56. I tend to sleep on my side or on my stomach. I have problems falling asleep on my back. So it's hard for me to sleep in cars or on planes. 57. My first concert was Van Halen. 58. I have driven in New York City -- all five boroughs -- and Long Island and lived to tell about it. There are people I know who are scared to drive in New York. I don't consider this to be an extraordinary feat, though. 59. Over the course of my life, I've had two pet rabbits and a pet mouse. They were all very distinctive in personality. To those who say "ewwww" when I say that I had a pet mouse, you never met Lewis. He was damn cute and he was smart too. I still have a particularly soft spot for rabbits and want to get one as a pet again eventually, I just feel it would be unfair to a bunny if I got one now since I'm not home enough to pay it the attention it would need and that I would want to give it. 60. My mom convinced me one year when I was a kid, since my birthday is on the first day of winter, that if we skipped that day, we wouldn't have winter and she didn't want winter so we were skipping that day. 61. For a while, I had a distinct Canadian accent. I don't know where it came from. I've never spent more than a week at a time in Canada, and I've been there only a handful of times. 62. I've never been mugged. I am grateful for that. 63. In several of my jobs, we've used AOL Instant Messenger to communicate between co-workers. A few times, I've been in the middle of an IM conversation and just got up and walked over to the person to continue the conversation realtime because I didn't see the point in having a message go from my computer to a server in Virginia and back to a machine that was less than 10 feet away from my desk. 64. New York-style thin crust pizza is the way to go. I never understood this deep-dish, thick crust stuff. 65. Yes, I've been to band camp. I was in marching band during high school and we used to hold a week of "band camp" right before school started to learn some of the basics. But it was at the school itself, not at an actual camp. Then there was the year I was drum major of the band, and I went away to drum major training at UMass. 66. I seem to be the repository for e-mail spam, and I've been getting an inordinate number of wrong-number calls to both my cell phone and my work phone. Some of those calls are the "cell phone in the pocket/purse accidentally dialed your number and hit send" so I get five minute long messages on my voicemail of nothing. 67. I have several ideas for stories. But I always lose interest after I start writing them. It's one of the reasons why I like blogging, I can write short things. 68. Sometimes I have a really short attention span and am easily distracted, sometimes I can stay riveted to something for hours. I never considered the possibility that I had ADD, and I still won't. 69. I have to make a concerted effort to concentrate on a conversation or a person when there's music playing in the background. My mind automatically tunes into the music to try and figure it out. I've been in the middle of walking with someone and I'll hear a snippet of a song and I'll stop dead wherever I am (even if I'm in the middle of a sentence) while my mind says, "Let's figure out which song it is! It sounds familiar!" My friends find this amusing. 70. I really want to go see Australia and Italy. 71. I dropped acid once by accident. The tab was on a desk I sat at in high school, and it stuck to my hand when I brushed it, though I didn't notice it until I went to bite off a cuticle and it dropped into my mouth. I spit it out and saw what it was. The world became very two-dimensional for a while. 72. I have a Curious George. He's been everywhere with me, and I've had him since I was 1. He's old enough to vote, drive, drink... everything except collect Social Security. He's sitting on top of my desk looking down on me as I write this. 73. I've gone skydiving. I have the videotape to prove it. 74. My two favorite comics of all time are "Bloom County" and "Calvin & Hobbes." I love intelligent humor. 75. I grow hair really quickly. I need to get a haircut every 4-6 weeks. And I get 5 o'clock shadow around 2 in the afternoon. I can grow a full beard in a couple days. 76. I'm quite attracted to Irish women. Red hair and green eyes, or the "Black Irish" complexion of dark eyes and dark hair, is an instant turn-on for me. I like freckles too. 77. I lived in a dorm one year in college that had a really great dryer. It made the clothes quite warm and fuzzy. So a few times, when I did my laundry, I'd try on all the shirts and pants to feel the warmth and fuzziness before I folded up the clothes and put them away. 78. My typing has been clocked at around 100 words per minute. But that's when I'm really concentrating. I usually type around 75-80. 79. I know how to very easily open those little plastic bags they give you in the produce section of the supermarket. 80. I'm a road warrior. I love being behind the wheel. There's few things in this world that are better for me than to be out on the open road on a beautiful day with some good music. 81. Until last year, I'd never been to a strip club. Then I went to three in the space of about five months. That is what unemployment and having unemployed friends will do to a man. 82. I actually have seen one of the "Girls Gone Wild" videos. I didn't buy it. I was over a friend's place and a bunch of guys there insisted my friend put his roommate's copy in the VCR so they could watch it. I guess these white upper-class preppy boys considered it porn. 83. Because my parents are technologically inept, I've had to perform tech support for them over the phone many times, especially now that I'm 3000 miles away from them. They once called me right after I'd left for college to ask me how to program the VCR and I had to explain it to them long-distance. 84. I don't have any fears about flying, not even after 9/11. My only fear about travel is that the airline will lose my luggage. I don't get tense until I get off the plane at my destination. 85. My index fingers are curved. They noticeably bend in towards my other fingers. 86. My pen of choice is a Sanford Uni-ball micro with black ink. I keep a private stock so I can resupply my desks at work and home. I get pissed when people steal my pens at work, and more than once, I have hunted down the culprit and gotten my pen back. 87. I do imitations and several accents really well. I was at a Halloween party dressed up as an Indian (from India, not a Native America) and called myself "The Bhagwan From Brooklyn," and I spoke in an Indian accent all night. At one point, I dropped the accent for a minute and told the woman I was talking to, "I'm gonna get a drink, you want anything?" Her jaw dropped to the floor and she said, "Wait... what happened to the accent? Aren't you from India?" She was probably drunk though. 88. I'm allergic to cats. I like 'em a lot and they like me a lot too, but I can't be near them for more than a couple of minutes. 89. I can use chopsticks quite well. I couldn't at all for a long time, then I went to a place in New York's Chinatown where they didn't have silverware -- hell, they didn't even speak English that well at all and we were the only Caucasians in the entire place -- and suddenly, I could use chopsticks. 90. I sometimes believe that I'm the only person in the world who's noticed that Whoopi Goldberg doesn't have any eyebrows. 91. Every permanent residence I've lived in has been less than 10 miles from either the Atlantic or the Pacific Ocean. 92. The lead singer from Unwritten Law once temporarily deafened me. I was standing in the alley in back of the Palace Theatre here in L.A. waiting for my friend to introduce the band and join us backstage when the group's lead singer ran up next to me and screamed into a megaphone. I wasn't so happy. 93. I like candles. 94. I don't normally allow people to take pictures of me. I don't like seeing myself on TV or in pictures, and I don't like listening to recordings of myself singing either. I don't know why. 95. If I ever start a band, I will call it "Evil Petting Zoo." And I've also come up with potential album titles: Songs To Have A.D.D. To and Treble Without A Cause. No, you can't use them. 96. I actually like Fresca. And I can still find it in my local supermarket. 97. Someone really did once find out that I'm Jewish and then ask me where my horns were. I was not so pleased. 98. When I send IMs to people, I don't use capital letters. 99. I was conceived in Guadalajara, Mexico. My parents lived there for 4 years. 100. It took me entirely too long to come up with 100 things about me for this list.

There are just certain people that run through the background of your life that are remembered years later with fond memories, even though you weren't friends. You still think of them. And they're a basis for you to reminisce with your friends. I got my alumni magazine from my college tonight and called up my best friend (the one who lives a mile and a half away from me now, we met in college) to tell her that a couple pictures of her from her recent reunion were in the magazine and on the alumni website. We both browsed through the alumni website -- actually, all three of us, since my best friend's roommate also went to college with us and was in on the conversation -- and saw some pictures of other aspects of college and two people in particular that we recalled with fondness: 1. Chinese Food Man. We never were sure who Chinese Food Man was, but rumor had it that he was a graduate of our college and was being Chinese Food Man to raise money for grad school, among other jobs. Chinese Food Man was just a regular Caucasian guy, but he came around through all the dorms at night and had a big cooler that he wore -- took a strap that he attached to the sides of the cooler and slipped it around his neck. He filled the cooler with various Chinese food dishes that I guess he bought from a local Chinese restaurant, then came to my school and sold it to us poor hungry students late at night. The thing is, he always announced himself the same way: "Chinese Food Man, is anybody hungry?" in this sing-song kind of way that I still remember. He'd just wander through the halls, chanting his siren call and he'd do a pretty good business too. 2. Hector. Hector was awesome. Hector was one of the workers in the cafeteria in the student union. He usually manned the cash registers, and this position is what made him famous. This particular cafeteria was a la carte, and the university meal plan only allotted you a certain dollar amount per meal, and it never turned out to be enough. So we'd invariably go over. Then Hector, after ringing everything up, would just remove an item from the register total to make your total go under your limit and then he'd swipe your card. Hector was the Man. My friends and I even called the process "being Hectored," immortalizing him in verb form. Ah, those were the carefree days of college. Me and my Merry Prankster attitude. Like the time I got gallons of food coloring and tried to turn the pond in my quad red, but it was so damn murky that it never made a difference. Or the time I set up a Slip-n-Slide on my hallway. Or the time I duct-taped my R.A. into his room. Or the lemon meringue pie fight I started. And, of course, who could forget the Walk of Shame?

On a side note, before I start this entry, let me sidetrack to say that someone once said to me that there's no such things as ethics in business. It's more commonly known as "ratfucking." So. Having laid that lovely gem on you, on with the tale. I was never a big fan of dramatics. Not in the sense that I don't like plays and movies -- I do. Hell, I acted in several. I just don't like overly dramatic people. It's something I may be guilty of from time to time, but I try not to when I realize both how hypocritical it is when I'm dramatic and also how ridiculous I'd look and sound. There's just that certain air of passive-aggressive arrogance and egotism that comes with it that I just don't like. I'll be playfully dramatic, though it's usually to mock someone. I worked today, despite the fact that it was Yom Kippur. Given the fact that some people had to be in the office to keep things going, I figured that I'm not observant enough to prevent someone who might be more observant from taking the day off. So I went in, and the more observant Jews took the day off and went to Temple and fasted all day. We heard back from one of them during the course of the day, a person who -- when we said "it's okay, we've got stuff under control, aren't you supposed to be in Temple?" -- told us more than once, "Hey, give me a break, I haven't eaten in 27 hours and I'm tired from being in Temple all day and I'm hungry." Yes, I applaud the person for being observant and steadfast in belief enough to fast all day, but that's no reason to use it as an excuse nor to remind others of it. You fast because you feel it's the right thing to do, not because you want to feel high & mighty about doing it, or that you're better than those who aren't. That's selfish. After the third or fourth time I heard it from this person, I almost felt like saying something to the effect of, "You're in the wrong religion... we need to get you a cross so you can climb up on it and nail yourself there so we can notice you doing it." Someone once told me that actions done for recognition or ones that the person performing the deed reminds others of doing are not selfless acts. A selfless act is one done without need for recognition, need for reminders or need for calls to attention to the deed. You do what you do because you want to and you think it's the right thing to do, not because you want others to acknowledge it.

The unthinkable has happened. I got into work this morning after 3 1/2 hours' sleep last night and found a nice big "out of order" sign hanging on the coffee machine. On the one day of the week that I need it and that I actually allow myself coffee. This is not good. At all. So if anyone out there knows of any way that I can somehow download caffeine from the Internet into my body, please let me know.

I still am at a loss as to the origins of "chop suey." It's good and I like it, but for the life of me, I can't figure it out. What's suey? Why is it chopped? Is there suey in unchopped form available, and what does it taste or look or smell like? And quite frankly, is it actually chopped, since the name of the dish is "chop suey" and not "chopped suey"? Please, someone explain this to me before I cry when angels deserve to die.

Why do women call their female friends "girlfriends"? For example: "I went out with my girlfriend 'Jane' last night." Women never say "I went out with my boyfriend 'John' last night" unless they're talking about their specific male significant other. Guys never say that they went out with their boyfriends unless they're gay, and we use the term "girlfriend" only when talking about our specific female attachments as well. Why can't women just say "I went out with my friend [insert female name here] last night"? Is there some kind of intractable bond among women in which they are all girlfriends? Men never need to clarify these kinds of things, we're all just friends. This... this is why "Seinfeld" went off the air.

On the way back from lunch today, my co-worker that I went to lunch with dragged me into a shoe store. Seems he broke the laces in one of his shoes and had been all over creation looking for replacements but couldn't find them in the usual places -- Target, Rite-Aid, he even looked in the supermarket -- so he decided to look in the obvious place: a shoe store. They actually had shoelaces, which was mildly surprising because it was an upscale shoe store. Man, did they have laces. They had them in these nice little wooden drawers with "LACES" carved into the front of the drawer so that it completely matched with the upscale décor of the entire store. We dove into the laces selection -- which was divided out by size, color and consistency -- to pick him out some. He didn't want the waxed kind, which most of the ones the store had were, but we managed to find a package that had black and unwaxed. Then I raised the dumbass question that I can never remember the answer to when I'm buying laces: Are there one or two laces in the package? I can't tell from looking at them because they tuck the ends inside the rolled-up part so I can't count how many ends there are. And the fact that there's anywhere between 30 and 54 inches of laces (depending on what I'm buying laces for) means that the amount of laces in the package could conceivably be all for one lace. So I asked the dumbass question, expecting my co-worker to give me THAT LOOK, but instead his face went blank and he said, "Damned if I know. I can never remember that either, so sometimes I end up buying two packages because I think I need both of them to match them up." At least I'm not the only one. This time around, we asked the store clerk. And I better remember that, since I don't want to have to track down some clerk in Target the next time I'm looking for shoelaces to ask the dumbass question.

I'm on my feet I'm on the floor I'm good to go All I need is just to hear a song I know I wanna always feel like part of this was mine I wanna fall in love tonight... -- Jimmy Eat World, "A Praise Chorus" Amazing how a song can galvanize you, touch you so deeply and accurately reflect how you're feeling all at the same time, isn't it?

- I think that, in order to be on television as yourself and not acting in a role as someone else, there's some kind of stipulation that says that you have to be a moron. I mean, Anna Nicole Smith. Case in point. And John Madden. Despite his legacy in football, the man makes the stupidest remarks as a commentator. Watching my Patriots school the Steelers was an exercise in restraint since I kept looking around for sharp objects to drill through the TV whenever Madden opened his mouth. At least Monday Night Football didn't keep Dennis Miller around. - Seeing as how this is Los Angeles, land of the beautiful people (especially the section I live in), I would've thought there'd be a city ordinance against things like the drunken old man stumbling up my street yelling swears at everyone and everything at midnight. I was apparently wrong. - Until a few years ago, I was thoroughly convinced that the song "Hotel California" by the Eagles was about the Betty Ford Clinic. I mean, look at these sample lyrics: So I called up the Captain/Please bring me my wine/He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since 1969.' And then there's these sections too: We are all just prisoners here of our own device/And in the master's chambers/They gathered for the feast/They stab it with their steely knives/But they just can't kill the beast -- and this final part at the end of the song -- You can check out any time you like/But you can never leave. Then I found out a couple of years ago that the song was written before the Betty Ford Clinic even opened. So much for my satisfaction at coming up with the song's "inner meaning." Don't I feel like the dumbass now.

I will not make many comments regarding 9/11. I was one of the very lucky ones who was not directly affected by the terrorist attacks. I didn't know anyone who died. I watched the whole thing live on TV, safe in the knowledge that no one I knew was at risk that day. I almost felt guilty, knowing that so many people were experiencing such pain, suffering, worry, loss, anguish and sorrow while I sat securely in the comfort of my living room. And to some extent, I still do. People still have constant reminders: the children who will grow up without a parent, the couples that no longer have a spouse or significant other, the parents whose child or children are off fighting in Afghanistan, the gaping hole in the skyline. I am very fortunate that I only have the last of those reminders, and the only real ways I was affected were that my unemployment lasted a bit longer than it might have had our economy not been shaken and now I have to wait a little longer in line when I fly. To some extent, I am not looking forward to tomorrow. I do not want to witness the towers coming down, the people dying, the aforementioned pain/suffering/anguish/loss all over again. I do not need to be reminded. Someone said to me, "In order to remember something, you need to forget it first. We haven't forgotten 9/11/01." Many of the people who were directly affected do not need or want to be reminded, since they are trying to heal and all this media onslaught only serves to open up those raw wounds. However, Americans have a nasty tendency to forget too easily. Our attention spans can be measured in nanoseconds. A Page 1 story in today's paper is pushed back to Page 24 in tomorrow's. For those who weren't directly affected, it can be easily forgotten, and people need that constant reminder so in that way, I understand the constant barrage of input from the media regarding 9/11. Those who forget history are condemned to repeat it, and we cannot afford to repeat such a terrible occurrence.

I look forward to a winter without having to shovel snow or worry about slipping on ice or getting into a car accident because of it. I look forward to not having to dress in 16 layers because it's freezing cold outside and the wind can cut through you like a knife. I look forward to a cool fall night under a clear sky, surrounded by good friends while having a good time. I look forward to making the cross-country trip again, because this time I won't have the nervousness I had last time as I was driving towards an unfamiliar city and a whole new life without even a place to call my own. I look forward to exploring more of Los Angeles and getting to know the city, and eventually being able to call it home. I look forward to all the new experiences and adventures to come that I can't even conceive of yet. I look forward to finding you, wherever you may be. But first, I look forward to being able to fall asleep tonight, since I have my usual I'm-used-to-staying-up-late-on-the-weekends-so-I-can't-fall-asleep-early-on-Sunday-night insomnia, even though my alarm will be going off in a little over 4 1/2 hours. Tomorrow, I'll be powered pretty much solely by caffeine and adrenaline.