Anywho, where were we? Oh no, don’t leave me yet. I was just getting started. Ummm, so, right. My new job. It’s pretty awesome. It’s laid back. Everyone’s cool. I was driving around with one of my new co-workers and she was playing the audio version of The Secret. I didn’t really let on that I am kinda fascinated with the whole premise but I listened to her talk about it. Then she blurted out that she manifested her breasts and that she’s nursed three kids and she still has the amazing boobs of a 20 year old, and seriously? NO SAG. Shoot, I dont even have the boobs of a 20 year old. She does have some pretty large boobies, I haven’t verified the sag factor. Report coming soon.

Speaking of The Secret, I was thinking that I would like some thicker hair. So I visualized and intended and what not. Then at lunch today, with my aunt and uncle, they BOTH commented that my hair looked really thick. And I know what you’re thinking but they both did it independently of the other and without prompting.

What the do, what the do. Sir Chinko is passed out on my couch. I’m a little concerned with his violent snoring. I hope he’s under his overdose limit. Sir Chinko had to borrow his sisters car to drive down from San Francisco. Go Volvo! Sir Chinko’s sister is going to be out of the country for a year starting in 2008 and he gets to housesit. Her house is hott. Yeah, two ts. There will be much Millionizer in SF in 2008.

Here are some pictures from today.

Sir Chinko had this shirt made for my birthday. Due to the 3-Dness of my chest the E and R got cut off. There was some talk of doing a panorama so it could be read as a whole but the point gets across. And I is lazy.

This bat was on our floor when we walked in from dinner. Look at it’s upset little face. Poor guy. I did some research and bats are actually not flying rodents. What makes a rodent you ask? Good question. Rodents are in the order Rodentia. Bats are in the order Chiroptera. Upon further research I thought I had identified the particular bat we had in our home. Or by this point in our garbage. Here’s a picture of it.

This bat is called The Common Pipistrelle or in Latin, Pipistrellus pipistrellu. The only problem is that this bat is supposed to live in Europe, North Africa, southwestern Asia, and possibly Korea. I live in North America. But I swear to god that is the same bat in both pictures. I dunno man. But bats get inneresting when you’re drunk.

This is a picture of my table.

And there you go. It took me over an hour to get this out. I kept having to erase mindless babble and make sure I spelled things right.

[tags]Bats, red stripe, Pipistrellus pipistrellu, Common Pipistrelle, the secret, the millionizer, wife beaters[/tags]

A while ago, I found a hat. It’s a gray beanie with bear ears. I could tell it was hand knitted because you can feel the love, and see the little lump where they finished it off. Anyway, it’s adorable and I wear it semi-frequently but always with a rocking sense of owning it. Like, I am owning this beanie with bear ears hardcore! right now.

This isn’t the first hat I found and claimed as my own. A year before, I found a blue hat with aviator flaps and strings to tie ‘em together. It never gets so cold here that I have to tie it but I do wear it in the cold and rock it hardcore. I found both hats in the same general location. Stevenson Collge at UCSC. The blue hat I found on a fire hydrant on the way back from class, the bear ears I somehow acquired after a night of binge drinking.

Fast forward to last night. Our friend Pete says we’re going to neighborhood night down at the brewery with him at 9. By 9 he really means 10. My hair was still wet from happy shower time when everyone showed up and since we were walking to the brewery and I am still getting over a cold I decided it would be a good idea to wear some head covering. Beanie with bear ears to the rescue.

We nurse some pitchers. I complain about the biaatches in the ladies room. We talk about how neighborhood night is not so much neighborly as it is a tanned, white and blond meat market for assholes and retards. The patio closes and we are all herded indoors. I complain to TBU that we should just go home because I fucking hate these dudebrahs and it was fine when we were out on the patio but I really don’t want to be caged in with them. He ignores me.

The floor is sticky and now we’re screaming at each other in order to hold a conversation. And I’m repeating something like, We have to scream to hear each other now, to Marcus for the 13 millionth time even though my mouth and his ear are only 4 inches apart when I get a tapped. I’m like What the fuck?! because I am tired of being pushed and bumped by people who need to get by me and want to get their friends passed me. I look over and Pete is talking to some dude and he asks, Where’d you get your hat? I found it, and the dude blinks in amazement and says That’s my hat! I asked him where he lost it and he said Stevenson. His name is Robert and he tells me his friend in New York made it for him and he lost it in one of the houses at Stevenson. We compare the years we lived in the dorms and his story checks out, then I ask which house. I lived in that house! Now we’re both in a flurry of excitement. We’re screaming and smiling, I even hug the guy. And you know how I feel about hugging.

By this point, we’ve hugged, we’ve told stories about the hat, we’ve inappropriately fondled the hat, I’m like let’s take a picture. I asked him if he remembers what room he lost it in. Alex’s room. Alex was roommates with my really good friend and I basically camped out there even though I lived two doors down. I don’t remember the exact moment I acquired the hat but I do remember waking up with it after a long night, being happy that I had it. It’s totally possible I picked it up from Alex’s room. We take the picture and send it to his phone. It’s been 10 minutes and we still can’t get over how funny the story is. Everytime I put it on I wondered who lost it and the story behind it. Robert was wondering what became of the hat a couple days ago. I’ve had this hat for 4 years and he just happened to think about it 2 days ago. I can’t help feeling like I stole the hat now. Robert accidentally left his beanie in a friends room and he didn’t even have a chance to reclaim it because I was there so much. I told him he could have it back (multiple times) but he refused. He was glad to see it was still in such good condition. His only request was to keep rocking it.

So the moral of the story is, handmade beanies with bear ears are awesome and bring people together and I forgive TBU for ignoring me last night. As TBU and I were leaving, Robert was telling the story to a group of friends in the same spaz out manner we were talking to each other. For us, it’s that good of a story.

I’m categorizing this under ‘college’ for obvious reasons and ‘The Secret’ because that was totally the work of the universe.

[tags]beanies, knitting, ucsc, uc santa cruz, santa cruz, adlai stevenson, stevenson college, beanies with bear ears rock[/tags]

What premiers tomorrow?! The new season of Intervention. The promos have this guy (who looks a little too much like Ben, a friend from college) who claims he’s addicted to opiates.

The Millionizer: Everybody’s addicted to opiates. Shoot, I’m addicted to opiates.
TBU: Yeah, that guy just has access.
The Millionizer: Sereallyously
TBU: Somebody cut off his access!

I’ve told you about The Secret and the principles behind it and blah blah blah. Well. In the movie, they say if you want more money in your life, intend it. They suggest imagining checks just arriving in the mail. And I have been. I don’t know how it’ll happen, the how is the domain of the universe (apparently). And guess what came yesterday?! A check for $799, addressed to TBU. I think the wires got crossed somewhere along the way.

HOUSEKEEPING

So. The lovely Token is trying to help me make this place a little less retarded. Hopefully, the next time you’re here there won’t be that annoying and completely unwelcome blue border around the header.

And I was thinking of numbering my thoughts and nubbins in posts. That would allow me to write without having to come up with some sort of coherent transition or acknowledgement of the lack thereof. We’ll see. It’ll also allow readers to know what the fuck is going on.

Big, deep, cleansing breath. Slowly let it out and aaaahhhhhh.

Until next time, The Millionizer

[tags]Intervention, The Secret, Law of Attraction, meerkats, opiates [/tags]

There has been one tid bit of pop culture trivia that has been freakishly useful in my life. It hasn’t made me any money or gotten me a dream job but, among other things, it makes doing crossword puzzles easier and makes me look smart in Jeopardy. It’s the fact that I know Edith Head is a famous costume designer from the golden age of Hollywood cinema. Why has that come up so many times? I have no idea, all I know is that it’s useful information. Last week in the New York Times crossword puzzle the clue was, ‘Head of costume design.’ That’s a tricky one, because if you don’t know The Edith Head Factoid you might try to think of another name for someone who is in charge of costume design. That would lead you down a fruitless path. Now, you go and prosper from this.

To tell you this, I have to let you in on the ridiculousness that is The Millionizer and TBU. We have two TV’s in the living room. Well, they both go between computer screen and TV. It’s a complicated mess of wires and cables but long story short, sometimes we like to live large and waste eletricity by doing two different things with two different screens but still hang out. Oh look, here’s a picture. As you can see, TBU is playing Gears of War on the large screen while I am watching World Series of Poker on the smaller screen. Since poker is such a sport it is televised on ESPN and the commercials on ESPN are specifically geared towards, well typical ESPN viewers. Such commercials include the new Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Editon commercial. Let’s rewind a few hours. TBU is playing Gears of War on the big screen and I am flipping through the channels.* At least I am trying to. The remote is right by TBU so I ask him to hand it to me. He says he can’t stop, he might die. Fine. Now that that’s established. So the Sports Illustrated commercial comes on my TV while TBU is playing on the big screen. You might think it would be impossible for him to stop because he might virtually die. But no, when the SI commercial is on, he figures it out. I bring this inequity up and he says that he had already died and was waiting to get respawned or whatever, so he didn’t choose the SI commercial over me. No, not ever. I say, whatever dude. And he says, “What, you’re no beyonce. Is that what you want me to say?” Meh? Ummm, yeah I’m pretty satisfied with not being a talentless drag queen but thanks for your heartwarming words. Ouch though.

*Just to clear things up, we were not watching TV and playing video games for hours at a time. We had a lovely afternoon of downtown shenanigans and sunset watching.

[tags]The Secret, Edith Head, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue[/tags]