(*I haven’t purchased arena concert tickets since No Doubt opened for U2 right after 9/11. Boy was that a shit show. Only because U2 bummed the whole mood by projecting the names of the dead onto the audience and it suddenly turned from Orange County happy fun time to serious political concert. And let’s be honest I was there for Gwen, not Bono (or The Edge even though I happily share an article in my name with him).)

At the last minute TBU’s co-worker called and said she had extra tickets for us. We declined and went drinking with people our own age.

I finished my fourth drink of the night as My Party played and TBU offered to get my fifth, at which point I became irate at the ridiculousness of such a suggestion. When you have to fill out health questionnaires at the doctor every year you have to mention (fucking confess!) how many drinks you have a week. It starts at 0-1 but ends with 5+. As though once you have 5 (in a week!) you may as well go the whole cow. And if I have 5 in one night?! That’s like saying I have 35 drinks a week. Holy fuck, that’s a problem. But if I have just four on a Friday night, that’s casual, that’s like, “Hey, look at me, I’m a fucking adult. I have self control.” But seriously five in a week? What am I fourteen? No, I’m a fucking adult. I drink like one.

At the end of the show super hot but horribly yellow teethed lead singer of Kings of Leon reminds everyone to drive safe. Ha! Such a US of American! The concert is in London, a city that knows it’s way around some public transportation. C’mon US let’s be a real country and transport our people like it’s the normal fucking thing to do. Can we not handle the logistics? Can we not stop sucking fossil fuel’s tar ball dick?! Fucking do it already! We should all be able to traverse the country like it’s our right, not a fucking trust fund privilege to be poor and sweaty for a summer. Gah! But in the mean time, drive safe y’all.

Maybe sometime I’ll tell you about the time I drove completely wasted. Ooops, I just did. I am a failure.

The Millionizer’s is always mad and usually drunk

The last earthquake was on Easter. (Ah! aftershock!) Teebs, Mama Millz and I were just leaving the zoo, and that was a pretty big one, 7.2. This one was only 5.9 but it was epicentered closer and it was longer. And it was a mindfucker. There was the initial super crazy jolt and the requisite shaking to a slow fade (at which point TBU turned to me and said, earthquake?*) THEN it started all over again. Teebs and I casually went outside (he in his underwear, flaunting his adorable skinny legs) and the solid ground we were standing on continued to rumble for a good 15 seconds more. Earthquakes normally don’t bother me, I’ve been in a few in various situations (class, movies, the zoo) but this one was the biggest, strongest and longest (that’s what she said. HA! beat you to it!)

*Um YEAH it’s an earthquake! What the fuck else do you think it is? Our whole house is moving and creaking and THE GROUND IS MOVING! You were born and raised in California, I love you babe, but get a clue. This reaction was very similar to the one he had when we were at the zoo for the last earthquake. We were in the car getting ready to leave and just as he was about to turn the ignition he asked, why are you shaking the car?

I’m not shaking the car!

He turned to my mom, Are you shaking?

No.

Babe it’s an earthquake.

Not funny, stop shaking!

I’m not shaking, it’s an earthquake! I point to the sea of bouncing cars in the parking lot.

And even then he had a hard time grasping the concept. That was a pretty long earthquake too, we stepped out of the car after that whole conversation and it was still going. Anyway, Teebs needs better earthquake sense. Also it was really funny how the tourists lost their shit at the zoo. Downright amusing.

***

On Lady Gaga’s latest video: It’s like a film student mashup of everything having to do with the transition from the 80’s to the 90’s, including Madonna videos, with a sprinkle of Rhythm Nation (what with the bike shorts and general late early 90’s get ups) with just a hint of Christina Aguilera during her Dirrty phase. It’s like trying to make a gourmet meal out of everything you like and upon realizing it’s awful, you add something you know is terrible but you’re hoping it will somehow magically transform the shit stew you just made, respectively. Let me tell you, it does not work. That’s just the video, don’t even get me started on the fact that she’s just blurting out random Latin boy names, after the first chorus, TBU and I took over, Consuelo, Rigaberto, Domingo! It’s so painfully reminiscent of Madonna during her La Isla Bonita phase, there’s nothing performance art-y about it, not to me at least. I know that one could easily defend Gaga by saying that her whole schtick is about subverting fame and it’s constructs (and Madonna, Janet and Christina are perfect subjects), but in the end she’s a pop artist plain and simple and this was just pop rehash. I was already non-plussed by Telephone (the song itself and YES, the video too), this is just blech. Low point Gaga, sorry to say.

I’m so sure you needed my opinion on that. I consume entirely too much media.

***

The copious amount of media I consume is kinda my thing though. So continuing in that vein, The Tudors, on Showtime (and Netflix watch instantly!). I am loving this show. It stars Jonathan Rhys Meyers. I have conflicting feelings about him, I’m not a big celebrity follower so I may be confusing him with someone else, but isn’t he the one who flew into some sort of drunken rage at his mom and his sister and on an entirely separate occasion called someone a nigger when he wasn’t allowed on a flight? I mean, I SAY that I’m not a big celebrity follower but I certainly know a lot about somebody. I can’t find a picture of him where he doesn’t look ridiculous so I won’t provide one, but I assure you, he is a treat. I hope not too much of an asshole in real life because that would have an impact on my enjoyment of him.

Mmmm, yes, here he is. Not too ridiculous right?

Totally not ridiculous picture of JRM

Anyway, I loved him in Velvet Goldmine (see awesome photo above). Never thought about him again until I was browsing Watch Instantly and saw The Tudors. And I was like, Oh yeah, that guy! he was great in that one movie that made me want to do a ton of mushrooms and bathe myself in vomit and glitter! Right The Tudors, The Tudors. I could honestly do with less gratuitous sex scenes, yes I get the whole court was fucking everybody and it was all hush hush and dramatic, I get it, let’s be less cloying about it. Anyway, the costumes are unbelievable, really, really beautiful. Jonathan Rhys Myers does a surprisingly fantastic job as King Henry VIII. Surprising because I often find it hard to take ridiculously beautiful people seriously in serious roles. And I am captivated by Maria Doyle Kennedy, who plays King Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon. She has become my favorite part of the whole show. I know how the history goes and it makes everything so much more tragic and sweeping. Knowing how the story unfolds does not detract from the show, mainly because it is so loosely based on history if they weren’t freaking named right after the historical figures it might be hard to know it was about them.

Ha! Have you read this far? I don’t know what to tell you. The Millionizer is on media tonight.

***

The Millionizer has also FINALLY been accepted to nursing school! I got an A- in organic chemistry so that sealed the deal. I’m in. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to pay for it. I start July 12, I haven’t told my work and I am nervous as hell. I am also excited! Me! A career! Responsibilities that don’t involve sorting mail! Oh my goodness, could our little Millionizer be growing up? It might be happening folks, considering that she’s now 27. That’s 9 times 3! That’s late 20’s! That’s awesome!

Ok, ok, ok, ok now go watch Velvet Goldmine and report back, then watch the Tudors and lust after all the grandeur. Oh and this guy isn’t so bad either:

Henry Cavill, Gavin Rossdale lookalike and First Duke of Suffolk in The Tudors.

Well then, let’s go dilly some pickles and be nice to each other. Don’t pick at your skin!

The Millionizer has plans to do a post divulging all of her skin care suggestions. I was gonna call them secrets but that sounds like a lady mag trying to make you spend an entire hours worth of pay with the headline “Totally awesome butt secks secrets men want YOU to know!” I hate that shit. The headline would be in some gaudy neon color too. Tre gauche.

***

One class down, 2 more to go. But really, the only one that matters is chemistry. That’ll be done late May. Then it’s party time. Like paaaaaaarty time. Like showing chemistry who’s boss. Hint: it’s not chemistry. Although I really enjoy the chemical line drawings, they remind me of the designs on the wall of the theatre I used to go to with my mom. Film nerd shall always be a film nerd.

***

Went to TBU’s grand opening of the lobby he’s been working to hard on at work. It was really impressive. They have this amazing  3-D screen that you don’t need glasses for. It’s incredible. Very techy. What was inspiring was listening to the major donors speak. They sucked as speakers but it made me want to start some sort of program where I could (formally) give to the UCSC film department. Obviously, it won’t be on the scale of a state of the art lobby (yet) but I want to be able to help out a few students with the extreme expenses that accompany being a film major. The production side of the major is really cost prohibitive. I was lucky, because I was able to have my financial aid cover most of the costs. But that was back when the government actually gave you enough money to go to school and live and before UCSC stopped giving a shit about the arts. I’m looking into setting up a non-profit, where I get to make the decisions of course, that has a scholarship program. It’ll be tax deductible, folks!

***

Where does one find a significant other for a friend? Ms. A has threatened to leave San Diego in search of a life mate. We cannot let that happen! I need to get her a couple dates. If you know of anyone in the San Diego area who is 25-32 with a stable job, his own car, and health insurance who does not live with his parents PLEASE LET ME KNOW. Also, no assholes. The situation is dire.

The Millionizer has ideas she never does anything with

]]> http://themillionizer.com/2010/04/11/second-meal/feed/ 4 http://themillionizer.com/2010/04/01/ive-made-a-terrible-mistake/ http://themillionizer.com/2010/04/01/ive-made-a-terrible-mistake/#comments Fri, 02 Apr 2010 01:06:35 +0000 themillionizer http://themillionizer.com/?p=968 I write notes for posts in a notepad at work because I like it’s perfect size-ness. Then I left it in someone else’s office and now it’s nowhere to be found. It can totally be traced back to me since it’s got my name on it. Even if it were anonymous anyone can figure it out since it’s all in purple ink. Do you know what’s in that notebook? Things I don’t even post! Yes, interestingly, I DO HAVE A FILTER. I write shit down then I decide that maybe talking about how awful my coworkers are isn’t necessary. So It stays in the notebook. NOW I CAN’T FIND THE NOTEBOOOK. Luckily, there are never any names in it. BUT STILL.

Oh well. Que sera, sera eh?

Someone asked me the other day how I come up with my post titles, since they rarely have anything to  do with anything. The answer is I get them from the ether most of the time. Most mornings I wake up with some word or phrase repeating in my head and I involuntarily repeat it all day. In the past few days I’ve gotten emotional grandstanding and bip bop flippy flop. So there’s the answer to that.

If I write so many notes for the blog how come there’s never anything new here? The answer is that I am a procrastinator, so badly a procrastinator that I procrastinate doing things that I procrastinate with (ie blogging). Also, I do not get things from my mind to the keyboard very fluidly. It’s a strange, jerky process for me. Which is why I do it, because it’s good for my mind. But it’s hard for me, I don’t know why. I know Sir Chinko and probably X just crap something genius out in 5 minutes then go about their day, satisfied with themselves for having done so. Not I, just getting this far has probably taken me a half hour. But I’m in public, there are things to get distracted by, *see below. So my point is that I have started a podcast. I know! How 2005 of me! But it’s so much easier, I just think of something then I say it and then it’s done! No editing, no erasing what I’ve said to make it mare readable. I say it and it’s out there, bam! And it’s not just me talking at you either. There are guests and topics! So far I’ve had TBU and Savage as guests. Savage was slightly over enthusiastic. Unexpectedly. It’s called The Millionizer on Media and we talk mostly about the media I/we consume or would like to consume, replete with tangents, rants and non-sequiters. You might enjoy it, you might not. I’m still figuring garageband out, so when I do I’ll post what I have weekly, after that, let’s keep our fingers crossed.

*I’m at Rebecca’s coffeeshop near my house waiting for my chemistry tutor and some guy just asked the girl upfront what the wi-fi password is. She said, “sandwich” he said, “sandwich, like it sounds?”

“yep sandwich.”

“Saaaaaaannnnnddddwwwiiich…”

“Yes, sandwich,” points to a large sign reading, “sandwich”

“…”

“s a n d w i c h”

“Sounds good!” then walks out.

Dude must be walking out of every coffeeshop looking for a password not involving letters. Or something, I dono.

Tomorrow night is outdoor drink and getting together with Ms A, I have to convince her to get on the podcast.

The Millionizer is of no interest to you.

PS I sent the Dirty Dancing research paper to Token and X, commence nail biting!

***

They said it couldn’t be done, but I’ve done it. I’ve gone and written a twelve page academic research paper on Dirty Dancing. Not only that, but I got a 96% on it. What happened to the other 4% you ask? Well, upon re-reading what I submitted I found some grammatical errors, “internal contradictions and stylistic excesses,” (Card, 1991). 96% was actually pretty fair. That quote is from Orson Scott Card in his introduction to the 1991 re-release of Ender’s Game. I just always really liked how he phrased that.

When I told my mom about the paper she snapped, “Twelve pages?! They’re just dancing!” Just dancing my bleeding heart. Well I did it people, I fucking did it. And it was fun.

***

As you’ve probably noticed, I have nothing of real interest to share. My life is consumed by working a full time shitastic job where everyone assumes I do nothing and 3 classes. The first two don’t really count since they are easy and allow me to write papers on Dirty Dancing. The third one though, the third one is a bitch. A foul sky cunt who masterminded the Great Potato Rape of 1874. Organic chemistry can suck it.

However, if all goes as planned, I should be in the nursing program by July. So here we go!

The Millionizer is gonna be pissed at her brother in law for a while

What finally made me get some help was an online health survey through TBU’s work. We were bribed to take a survey in exchange for monies. So I did it and answered a bunch of questions and I was like, “Fuck, shit’s going down.” That was the last straw, but there had been months of me perseverating on things I couldn’t change and people’s dumbass decisions I don’t get to make for them. I literally could not stop myself from thinking about all the ways shit was fucked up. So about a month ago I started taking some new medication. I was worried because I didn’t want to become less awesome. I like my biting observations and lack of like for people who are a waste of space on earth. But I also like being able to get things done and sleep soooooo… It was a strategic life move. I’ve noticed that in the last month I’ve had more of a filter. When TBU and I are out I don’t go on about what I don’t like about the people around me, not as much at least. I still think these things, but they don’t come spilling out of my mouth as often. Which begs the question, is it even working if I’m still having these negative thoughts, even though I’m not actually saying anything? It’s all a process and it typically takes between 6 and 8 weeks to see the full effect. I have also noticed that I sleep a lot better these days. TBU says I’m less grumpy. But so far there have been no definitive observations on my more charming qualities.

The Millionizer spent $25 less than her rent on one of her cat’s vet visits today and put her other cat on Prozac yesterday. We are a family of crazy.

Sometimes I’m just like, “What’s Zach Galifianakis up to?” And then I check his facebook page. Which, is clearly not personal but I feel like it could be. And so I check it thinking I could possibly, maybe get a glimpse into the glamorous world of Zach G. But it’s a lie, A LIE!

Remember in 2008 when I almost died of stomach acid poisoning? Well all it started at a Zach Galifianakis show. TBU and I both had a Fat Tire and upon our first sip both exclaimed that it tasted weird, but drank away nonetheless. And we continued drinking so that on our way home (home meaning Ms A’s current manlover’s l0vely apartment in Hillcrest above a restaurant that only serves esoteric hunting game) we harassed the scientology center and yelled about racism on billboards for planned communities. I don’t know exactly what caused my stomach lining malfunction but I blame my own need to get drunk and the Fat Tire that filled that need.

A: Look for fresh prints.

On Sunday we exchanged gifts with TBU’s family. T’was Me, Teebs, two brothers Teebs, Mama Teebs and Stepdad Teebs. These are the parents who freaked the fuck out up mention of a wedding planner. You may recall this incident, I certainly do. Anyhow, stepdad Teebs approached me with a box and a very proud look on his face saying, “Here, handpicked by me!” I took my time opening it because the ribbons on there were not just decoration, they were some type of reinforcement. As I’m trying to break into my gift, stepdad TBU keeps saying things like, “I know you like to wear them, so I thought I’d style it up a bit,” and other weird things about my style and apparent lack of it. I open what I am assuming can only be a vintage Gucci gown and feast my eyes upon a plain, zip up hoodie. Seriously, it’s gray all over, it zips up and it’s a sweatshirt. Now I don’t know what he thinks I normally wear that this gem is so stylish but it got kinda insulting. It didn’t stop there though, he told me over and over in various iterations, “Now that’s a generous medium but if that doesn’t fit, they have larges at the store.” He kept reminding me to try it on because I could exchange it for a large. I was like, “I know! You think I’m a horrible, hideous, and particularly unstylish beast! Please stop reminding me that my fat ass might need a large! Thank you!” It didn’t help my case that I WAS wearing a sweatshirt at the time. But in my defense it was a roll out of bed kind of situation and it was a super adorable slug (go slugs!) sweatshirt commemorating the Grateful Dead donating their entire archive to the UCSC library. Soooo, I kind of feel that he was over reacting on my sweatshirt wearing ESPECIALLY since the whole weekend I was wearing actual put together outfits involving undergarments, vintage dresses and super cute shoes. But did he notice that? Noooo, he noticed my sweatshirt. Or something.

And another thing!

I had the grand idea to write my posts at work and just copy and paste upon my grand arrival at home. The problem with that is that the workday brings no pleasure to me and I can’t even pretend to want to get into the head space necessary for a Millz worthy post. Which reminds me are you reading Michael Ian Black’s blog? If you’re not I don’t know what else you’re wasting your life with, but it should be this. And this post in particular speaks to me in so many ways: blogging, excessive emo pop, it’s like he’s in my head.

The Millionizer says adios to to the naughties.