Best deal in town.

Last week. Now it'd be a downright bargain.

Now, it's mostly like this:



I'm not saying cheap gas is necessarily a good thing. I don't want drilling in the Brooks' Range (a.k.a. ANWR) and I think laying off consumption would be healthy for many reasons. All I'm saying is that I already take the bus instead of drive to school everyday, I walk to the grocery store, and I bring along my own canvas grocery bags . So I'm not complaining, per se. I'm just saying.

A fineable offense

Appreciate for a moment, if you will, this photo of my car parked in the driveway of my apartment building. Now, ask yourself: What about this scenario would cause a Parking Enforcement Officer to exit his or her vehicle, whip out the ticket book, and proceed to issue me a $40 fine.

A. My car is too clean n' shiny.

B. Having recently purchased an SUV, the parking enforcement officer was provoked by the practical, yet fuel efficient, hatchback.

C. I am parked "in the sidewalk."

If you guessed C, give yourself all the points. I've always used the line between the sidewalk and the driveway as an indicator if I'm ticketable, but I that just doesn't cut it anymore. I contested the ticket. I lost. I declined to have a hearing as all the cortisol sure to gang up on my hippocampus because of the resulting stress (and INJUSTICE!) sounded more aversive than writing a check.

I still think I was okay.

Final straw.

I knew it had gone too far when THIS constituted 97% of the fruit and vegetable consumption at my place of residence.



So I went to the farmers' market and bought cherries, blueberries, white peaches and bananas. I also made vegetable soup. This time tomorrow? Back to a strict diet of queso and chardonnay.

More compelling evidence that my priorities are *totally* in order:

1. Things in Los Angeles are good. Great even. I'm getting a respectable amount of research done. I have ideas for my dissertation. I really like, and perhaps even love, many aspects of the city. I have a hot and charming man-friend who treats me unbelivably well to the great chagrin of all my lady-friends' man-friends. I've been offered the perfect summer job working in an applied psychology field that makes the world a better place -- for poor people (!!).

1A. This morning I bought tickets for my 2-month summer escape to NYC.

2. Yesterday morning I was reading a blog about a woman trying to manage her boyfriend, friends, work, and herself when the person in the next office passed by on the way to his office. In the name of decorum and maintaining a professional working environment, I clicked to another tab in my browser.

2A. Which was open to a Wikkipedia article about tabby cats.

Yay for me.

It's my birthday, dear readers. Everybody loves having a birthday - at least I do. My policy is to engage in a day of full-on hedonism on my birthday. So far I've had two restaurant meals and anticipate a third within the hour. I paid a nice Vietnamese woman to rub my body with soft hands and warm rocks this morning. I only read the summaries at the end of the chapters of 1 of the 2 books on motivation theory that I'm supposed to read for tomorrow. I read the preface of the second. So far, this class has yet to have an impact on my motivation orientation.

Last night Bev and I caught the Instant Films 21 screening. You gotta stream it!!! Or at least some of them. On Friday night 7 screenwriters each drew a noun and an adjective (e.g., legal/toast; annual, tequila) at random. On Saturday morning they drew the name of a director and a 3- 4 actor cast. The shorts were produced over the weekend and screened last night. The result -- magnificent!

Scarf.

I was so hungry this afternoon I could've eaten my own arm.

Luckily I was able to get a sandwich in time.

I have a new physical therapist. The first time we met he asked why I looked so familiar. I didn't tell him that he looked exactly like the nonexistent older brother of an attorney I dated this winter who sent me an e-Christmas card of himself posing with a snowman, a Christmas Eve voicemail, and a "let's grab a drink this weekend" in early January only to never call me again. Bastard.

But still. I like the physical therapist and didn't think I should mention this.

Figures.

Beth Lapides refers to Palm Springs as the "Gay 90s": you're either gay, or you're 90. Palm Springs was the last stop on the psychology conference tour which ended this weekend. When I was town in January I hadn't paid special attention to the age or orientation of PS inhabitants. This time I went CD shopping and was perplexed to find so much Streisand and Showtunes in the "S" section of the used CDs for sale. Then I remembered about the Gay 90s.