Sunday, December 05, 2004


cooch nougie (kooch nu'ge) n. - the process in which a male (or female) uses his or her hand to manipulate a female's genital area in a manner that uses excessive force and speed, and not giving the receiver the pleasure that the giver would expect. Example: He was using his hand so hard, it was like he was giving my cooch a nougie.

*Credit to me for the name and Michelle for the connection.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

If I can kill my dog, I can kill my grandfather 

So much recapping to do, so little time. I don't even know where to begin.

I guess I'm just going to have to break it down into a story a day. And there's a lot of stories to tell. I took tests like mad, served on a murder trial for 8 weeks, had my working life turned upside down, nursed an ill cat, met some new interesting people and ran into old ones (and by interesting I mean freakshows), switched potential roomates, switched universities (again), rode in a limo for the first time (well, limo bus which to me isn't the same thing but whatever), made an excessively expensive and somewhat impulsive purchase, joined a gym, yada yada yada. These all seem liked fairly mundane everyday occurences in people's life, but I of course have some Grauer-like spin on them. I guess I'll blog today about last night's festivities. And this'll be a long one, so hang in there.

So, it's been a pretty long week. Work, for me, hasn't been as enjoyable as it has been in the past (subject of another post), but it's not for a lack of really cool people. There are a lot of nutjobs where I work, but there are plenty of awesome folks out there who help aleviate (sp?) a lot of the stress I'm going through. So props to them. It's been a long week though nonetheless. So while I'm tired, I was in need of a good drink and some good company. So me and some gal pals head on up to the new Yard House in Rancho Cucamonga.

The place is packed, probably because for the most part, it's nothing but totally dive-y bars in the greater Rancho area (not that there's anything wrong with dive-y bars). And pretty much it's another high school reunion for me. There's at least five or six groups of familiar faces that I saw at this establishment, including one of the old proctors from Chino High, who has moved on to Yard House security. (Is it irony or coincidence that this guy wound up bossing around the same groups of people 8 years later?) So we head out to the patio after a grabbing some well mixed booze, and one might ask why we chose the patio on such a freezing ass cold night. Well, I'll tell ya why. Because one of the bartenders just happens to be a guy that I slept with continuously for a period of about 4 months. His name is Rawhide. Well, the name I gave him is Rawhide, and someday I will tell you all about him and his peculiar ways.

So we mosey(sp?) out there and fairly soon start talking to this group of guys. Well, maybe I should say, the one guy talked and we tried to talk, but ended up having to just listen. He initially was mildly appealing to one of my friends, but then he just opened his yap and kept it open until his mandible fell off. But then even after that he kept moving his tongue trying to emit noise from his mouth. (And for the record, I used the word "mandible" instead of "jaw" because he would use that word, or "fiduciary" or other 50 cent words peppered throughout the conversation just to remind us that he was highly educated even though he drove a bulldozer.) So Motor Mouth is questioning my friend's political affiliations and how she can be pro-death penalty since Jesus was sentenced to the death penalty. So I pop up with my two cents about how Jesus' crucifiction, while sad, was necessary for the religion of Christianity. He died for our sins so that we may have everlasting life. (Details in another post, but for the record, I wasn't saying this in a preachy sort of manner, but rather in a completely objective context to explain a point.) But I couldn't even talk for 1.1 seconds before the guy is totally trying to rebut. So I'm annoyed and leave him to fight it out with my friend, then me and the other friend start talking to a couple of MM's friends who happen to work in the same building as me. And like the first scenario, they're okay to begin with, but then start to conversate. The one guy ended up being completely weird and paranoid. After every statement, he would say "I'm totally just kidding." And we're like, yeah, we get it. We're not overly sensitive people, we can take jokes and even make a few ourselves. But it wasn't until he started repeatedly tapping his friends' nutsacks and not saying "I'm totally just kidding" that I wanted to ditch this loser pack. It's one thing to be like Erica and meet a guy who doesn't start showing his homosexual tendencies until the second meeting, but this guy was just beyond weird. So we headed to the can and then proceeded on our way.

However, my curiosity and desperation got to me. I had to stop inside to say hello to Rawhide. I wanted to see his reaction to me, and if he still remembered me (which why wouldn't he because I was the best thing he'd ever had) and if he begged for my number... yada. And he did, and I didn't give it to him because "oops" I, uh, didn't have a pen in that large pink leather purse of mine, but of course I would come back and visit him. Hee. I left with a little bit of validation knowing that there are some people that exist, even if they are schmucks, who lust after me.

So next stop is McAlan's. The place is wall-to-wall freaks with the exception of four people - myself, my two friends and one sparkling-eyed, gorgeous smiled Ryan. The ladies and I sallied up to a table and parked. We were quasi-engaged in conversation when I let out a yawn and this handsome human being turns to me and tells me yawning isn't allowed. Or something to that extent. So we chat and it turns out that we have a lot in common - same high school, same church, mutual friends, etc. And then all of a sudden, a snowflake fell in the second circle of Hell, because Bright Smile asked for my phone number and thought it might be cool if we went out sometime. Eeeeee!

So we all part ways and the lights come on, but 2am is still too soon to go home for my girls, so we high-tail it on over to Denny's for some salties and sweets. And in a weird coincidence I happened to have my junior and senior year yearbooks in my trunk (because I was too lazy to carry them in after lending them to a friend and left them there for a couple of months), so I dug em out and I of course have to go straight to Ryan's picture. And then we make our way through the other necessary pages and reminisce (sp?) about the good old days before overtipping the waiter and heading home. It was quite the entertaining evening.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004


That would be me.

I failed my Series 66 today. I thought I was cool because I had passed all four of my practice finals. Passing is a 71 and my lowest practice score was a 76. But those tests don't count. The one I got a 68 on does. I couldn't even get one more right to at least get a 69. That would have at least given me a minscule amount of pleasure in saying "I got a 69." But no. Not the case.

And so on a night when I should be relaxing and enjoying the relief of testing stress and pressure and envisioning a carefree holiday season, I'm instead kicking myself and crying at the thought of having to go through this crap all over again.

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