Deep Cleansing Facial
March 3rd, 2005So I’ve been weird about writing on this blog for awhile now, if that’s not obvious already by the lack of entries over the last few months. I have so many Drafted Entries saved that I never posted b/c well, I kinda deluded myself into this weird idea that b/c of all the drama I ended up blogging about last year, I should only post entries that are important and have some kind of emotional resonance. I had this feeling like I needed to share my ideas and feelings in a more significant and honest way, like if I went back to posting about work or dating or weird things I see or popcuture nonsense that it would kinda of take something genuine away from all the things I’ve been through. But then I realized something: this site a fucking BLOG, an insignifanct blip on the web radar only good for my own amusement and the occassional once-over from insomniacs and bored 9-to-5er’s. Yes I’ve undergone some profound changes but my life is not a morbid/bittersweet episode of Six Feet Under (where the hell is that show, by the way?), it’s nowhere near as complex or well-casted. Life is random, as Apple tells me (yes, I got an iPod shuffle! I fucking LOVE it) and it’s cool to pull bandaids off your bruises, quit gaurding the sutures that already healed and just get dirty again. Or better yet, get a new thing going — hence the new nip/tuck’d display. How obnoxious is that bigass picture of me looking like bootlegged Elijah Wood staring into the camera?
Big big love (once again) to my the ubervisionary Shan @ Blurbology.com for his techie websense and big gay fabulousness, and also for his numbchuck skills. (Napoleon Dynamite for life!) Shan’s is actually trekking up to my neck of the map soon and I cannot be more thrilled to host and show him just how we do here in Manhattan It’ll be his first time in New York — he’s a virgin! — and I’m excited to break him in! I don’t even plan to be gentle. Ew, sorry. Thanks, Shan.
In other news, I got a facial the other day. The technician (is that right word? I can’t bring myself to type the word Facialist, it’s just too L.A.) told me that owner VIP’d me b/c I send them so much business through work, so she pulled out all the stops. I trusted her. I trusted that bitch and she hurt me like hell. Before that day? I’d never had my nose waxed. Before that day? I never knew what real pain actually is. Meanwhile I’ve never breathed more free in my life, so whatever.
