Dr. Cocoa Puffs

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Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Hate weather. Must move.

Remember back when I was bitching about how hot it was and generally being an ass? I was an complete idiot. We are back to dreary, rainy weather and I have nothing to wear! It's too cold for summer clothes and too warm for winter clothes and I don't have any in-between shirts and I'm sick of my black pants and I want cute fall shoes, even though I just bought really expensive red leather boots and I've got no money to go shopping because we're trying to save money (sooo boring) and I'm being a whiny baby. So naahh. Life is crappy not because of millions of people dying of AIDS in Africa and starving in North Korea and being killed for oil and stupid pseudo-religious reasons in the Middle East, but because I don't have anything cute to wear. Because it's all about me. Not you. Me. Me. Me.

Unfortunately, the crappy weather is making me homesick once again for my homeland. I often think about the ways my life would be better if we just up and moved back to the States. To do so, however, I need a job there. A really good one as it could take some time for the Guitar Hero to get a green card (god forbid the immigration people ask him what face cream I use; we would be so fucked). And the job has to be in a neat-o place with a high percentage of coolness and a low percentage of right-wing asshats, which quite possibly rules out 90% of all towns in the US.

On the glass is half-full side of life: I'm going to be in another play. Yay! No money, but it's a fun play and the other actors are good. So for the next few months I'll have something more to do than lay around bitching about how horrible my life is. Granted, I'll still do it, I'll just have less time to do it. I'll have to organize the bitching into regular snippets. Coordination is key!

Speaking of coordination, here's what I need to do more of:

And, of course, what I need to do less of:


  • At 4:37 AM, Blogger Satria said…

    Hey, I wanna leave, too. But that whole green card thing is a bitch. Would you happen to know a drop dead gorgeous US gal willing to marry an underachieving writer-director who can't keep his place clean, hates sports and loves to eat?


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