*Demonstrates Self Assurance

The author, at what she previously thought of as a time before she was crazy...but as it turns out, no, she was already nuts.

I don't keep it a secret, and I'm not all that embarrassed of the fact, that I like things particularly tidy. I would never go so far to say that I'm a "neat freak" (at least not to my face), but I'll admit that I've had one, maybe two little freak-outs over the house being messy. Usually these freak-outs can be attributed, not to the actual mess, but to something else that's going on in my life; say, my mother coming to visit, or being nervous about something. But the feeling I have after I've given the house a thorough cleaning is probably a little more euphoric then most people experience. In fact, I'd even go so far to say that cleaning the bathroom (my bathroom, that is. not any old bathroom, in case you were picturing me gleefully smiling as I scrubbed the floors of a truck stop bathroom, you sicko) is something I can always count on to de-stress me and refocus my attention...weird, huh? Now, I know that a huge percentage of the population enjoys his or her personal space neat and clean, so I'm not saying that I'm "OCD" or whatever, and I'm sure there are tons of people who, like me, have trouble starting a project without the area they'll be working on and around nice and clean...but they can get their own damn blog and write about it there.

I've never really wondered where this "quirk" of mine came from. Both my parents are particularly neurotic people, in their own special little ways. My dad likes things "just-so" and is obviously stressed and agitated when things aren't as they should be. You should see him eat, it's the most organized, specific thing I've ever seen, if you can imagine that. I wouldn't go so far to say that he's crazy, or needs help, but I do think his happiness and satisfaction in life would be much higher if he could not worry about these things so much. Sometimes when we're hanging out, I have to give him a firm "Dad, just fucking relax!", otherwise I get equally agitated.

My mother, she's a little less crazy when it comes to keeping things in their place. She's definitely a tidy person, but I think that's more of a throwback to the few short years she spent as a housewife. She is manic, though. And I'm not using that term lightly; as in "Omg, my mother's like totally manic!", I mean "manic" literally and that's all I'm going to say about that...but if you've ever had to live with a manic person, you'll know what I'm talking about.

So, back to me...I've always thought that my yearn for clean, organized surroundings was a behaviour that I learned from my parents as I got older. Surely I, like my brother and sister (who are equally tidy people, but each in their own way) observed our parent's neurosis as we became adults and adopted them for ourselves. But yesterday, as I was cleaning out my closet, I found a box of this-and-that which my mother had saved from my days as a child. Among the birthday cards and various locks of hair (the fact that my hair was freaking blond(ish) when I was little came as quite a shock), I found a few progress reports sent home from my Montessori. I'd like to now quote what my teacher wrote about me during the fall of '83, which would make me three and a half years old: "Georgia is very aware of taking care of her environment. One of her favorite activities is dusting the shelves and materials at rest time." What the fuck, people??? I was three years old, and while the other little children napped, I chose to dust, for the love of god! This not only says a lot about my obviously deep seeded drive for cleanliness, but is also a clue to how far back my insomnia goes, although it doesn't really fit my pattern of being able to nap anywhere at any time, but not ever being ever to fall asleep at night. There's also a little star next to the check mark in the "Demonstrates self assurance" column, which makes me proud of my little self (I guess that means there'd be a little star next to the check mark in the "Totally self absorbed" column, should I ever get a progress report again).

Sea Legs

Today isn't working for me, and I think I'd like to trade it in for a new, prettier model, thankyouverymuch. Maybe something with a little less boss-yelling-at-me and a little more drinking-beer-in-the-sun?, and while we're at it, could you perhaps throw in a nap and perhaps a pedicure? Great.
This morning I was up entirely too early to be sure that myself and Elvis;

made it to the vet on time. This involved no less then one of the following:
-feeling incredibly guilty about forcing him to go to the vet, especially since he picked this morning to continually look up at me with his large (crossed) doe eyes, brimming with trust.
-locking him in the bathroom so he wouldn't make a run for it when he saw the dreaded cat carrier.
-accidentally letting him out of the bathroom where he made a mad dash under the bed.
-feeling like the worst person in the entire world when he let out a sad cry and immediately came out from under the bed when I crouched down and called his name...especially since a month earlier it had taken C over an hour to get him out in the same situation.
-stuffing him in the cat carrier where he immediately started emitting the loudest, most mournful cry I've ever heard.
-having to carry said cat box four blocks to the vet because I don't have a car, the entire way of which he continued the cry, which echoed down the block and caused many people to stare at me with concern (or amusement?)
When I finally left him with the vet (to get his teeth cleaned) I just wanted to curl up in bed and go back to sleep. But instead, I came to work where an irate boss was waiting to make me feel even worse, a theme he's continued throughout the day. Luckily I can pick Elvis up in a bit, and he's doing just fine (although the vet said that, although the sedatives have worn off, he doesn't yet have his "sea legs"...which just makes me picture him on a cold metal exam table, trying desperately to escape, only to be foiled by his damn hind legs and "why?!, why?! isn't Georgia here to save me?"). I'm trying to think of a way to call my boss after I bring Elvis home to say that I'm taking the rest of the day as a "personal day", but since he's already pissed at me I'm a little scared to...although I'll only be working here for three more weeks, so I guess it wouldn't really matter.

"Five Years, That's All We've Got"

Okay people(or person? I'm not sure if anyone reads this blog), I'm going to level with you...C and I broke up and I'm moving back to Los Angeles. That's the short version, the long version is 5 years long and includes a lot of the reasons that other couples don't stay together. It would be easy for me to say that I'm going back to LA because there's a really good court reporting school there, where I could finish in a shorter amount of time then I could doing it online (there's no actual school in SF so I've been doing an online program). That part is true, for sure, but of course it has way more to do with it then that. C and I have both agreed that if I were really happy here in SF, I would find a way to make the online program work, and that's true.

For one thing, I don't really like San Francisco that much; I loved it before I moved here, loved it when C and I used to come to visit his daughter every month or so, and loved it for the most part when we moved here 3 years and four months ago. But now, I'm sick of it. I'm not going to get all whiny and describe what I hate about it, and I'm sure in a couple years I'll find it a great vacation spot (once all the painful familiarity is gone), but that's what I'd like it to be: a vacation spot. I miss living in Los Angeles; I miss there always being something interesting to do, I miss my friends and family, I miss the culture that I've known since I was born, and yes, I even miss driving.

But location isn't the only factor, of course. Although I wouldn't hesitate to say he's my best friend, C and I don't have the closeness we once had...and he now actually feels like a best friend (or even a brother?!!) and not like what a boyfriend's supposed to feel like. I still love him, he still loves me...this is probably the most painful decision I've ever made, one that, if I look back, has taken me two years to make.

It pains me to say this because of the possibility C's going to read this, but I'm really excited about the future. In mid-April, once I've fulfilled my obligations at work (finishing out the tax season), I'll be staying with either my mom or dad in LA for a month or two while I get all the fundamentals in order (work, school, car, place to live). From there it's looking like my sister (who's boyfriend is ironically moving to SF for school) and I are going to get a place together. This really makes sense to both of us for so many reasons, mainly that we know each other so well and know what not to do to get on each other's nerves (and also we can walk around the house naked and not worry about offending anyone). The downside is that she wants to stay in Culver City (close to her office) and I'd rather live somewhere a little less suburb...but these are things that will work themselves out.

*Sigh* So that's what's going on. The next few weeks are going to go by very slowly, I can feel it. Being the worrier that I am, I'm terrified that I'm going to get killed somehow and not be able to enjoy this future that I'm planning...but I need to get that out of my head. The part that I'm dreading the most is the actual packing up and moving out part, which is something I've never experienced since C is the first boyfriend I've ever lived with. The "good-bye" part to, I cant' get myself to think too much about that.

When In Doubt...

Paint your toenails blue:


Your fingernails a lovely sea foam green:


Drink a cup of very strong coffee from a teeny tiny mug with your name on it:


Play with the office mutt:


And feed him a pretzel:

Homosexual Says "What?"

There are a lot of pluses to working in an office with seven gay guys and zero straight guys. For instance; not having to worry about anyone learing at you when you bend over. All our clients (the majority are gay) bring their dogs in to their appointments (I work in a tax/bookkeeping office). Constant wonderfully witty shit talking, etc.

But there are minuses too; for example, I know all the words to Kyle Minogues new album as well as the Dixie Chicks new album. I never know if I'm the person being summoned when someone calls "Princess?" and that gets confusing. Being pouty doesn't work when I'm trying to get someone to do something for me (as if it ever does otherwise)...and worst of all, The Annual American Idol Betting Pool. That's right, we have a organized, office wide pool going to guess the winner of American Idol. It wouldn't be so bad if there wasn't money involved, and if it were another show like Lost or even America's Next Top Model for Christ's sake! I've watched maybe two episodes of American Idol (or Idol as everyone in my office refers to it) in my life and I had less then no intention of watching it this season. To begin with, I only watch about five very specific shows a week. Having Tivo helps but hating television (and commercials, oh god I hate commercials) is also a big part of that. And now I'm in a pretty emotionally ugly situation (which I'll discuss here in the future, when I'm mentally prepared) which makes it hard to eat, let alone watch a fucking program where the only likable person on the show is Ryan Seacrest (which says a whole hell of a lot about the rest of the cast).

So ya, that's where I'm at right now. Please keep in mind that this post is intended to keep my mind occupied...I know I'm being vague, but bear with me. Actually, I've really been trying to take up smoking lately. My imagination has been absolutely wild and I feel like I need a habit to focus it elsewhere. For the past few years I've somehow taken over my father's nervous habit, which is fiddling with the ring on my right ring finger...which is why I always wear a ring there. But for some reason I think I'm physically incapable of smoking. Either I get terribly nauseous while I'm smoking, or feel like complete shit the next day. Plus, I'm pretty conscience of my appearance which includes how I smell, and I've found the smell of cigarettes to be pretty revolting (unless I've been drinking, in which case it's very attractive).

Mutilated Lips Give A Kiss On The Wrist

I'm trying to avoid this blog becoming a "today I did such-and-such" kinda blog (not that there's anything wrong with that), so instead here's some pictures of how much I drank tonight. Love you lots, Georgia.




This picture above is my new very favorite picture of me ever ever amen.







I fucking love this picture above.







these are...


our bestest friends ever.


The birthday girl.

Also, it was nice to hear and be able to dance to not only The Pharside, Tribe Called Quest and Slick Rick tonight, but now Ween is playing on my Ipod...can life get better? I doubt it.

Goooood Mooooorning Ms. Hardstark

On my way to work today, I realized I had inadvertently dressed like a crazy substitute teacher. See:


I also look a little high for some reason, but jesus, I love my hands.

*Edit: I just realized that you can see Max, the office wonder-dog, in the bottom left corner of that picture. Scary.

What's the longest you've ever been in a relationship? Before I met C my answer would have been "a year and eight months". But in reality the last month of that relationship was probably spent doing the "are we or aren't we? maybe, maybe not. I'm drunk come over and have sex with me, oops it's morning and I didn't mean all those things I said last night" song and dance. And the month before the last month was probably spent distancing myself in order to sheild myself from the pain of the obvioulsy pending break up...so in actuality my longest relationship was probably more like a year and six months. But as of tomorrow, my longest relationship is five years. Five years!!! That's 1/3 of the amount of time my parents were married, which is a fraction that makes me feel really old. And look how happy my parents were when they got married:



Do you think they were that happy (or as insanely good looking) fifteen years and three kids later? The answer is a resounding "Hell No" to those of you who don't get retorical questions. I'm not saying that C and I wouldn't be happy ten years from now (or that we're going to get married for that matter), it's just scary to think that you could spend that much time with someone and end up hating them.

Picture Post: "Awesome Things I've Found At Estate Sales"

A year or so back, C and I found ourselves simultaneously unemployed. With our Friday mornings free, we started going to lots of Estate Sales. Pretty soon we were hooked and would have directions drawn out on Thursday evening for two, sometimes three Estate Sales the next day. We were drawn to them, not only for the amazing material possessions you could find, but also for the architecture (seeing the insides of houses we would probably have never seen otherwise), and the story of the homeowner that was told through the things they had saved throughout the years. Although they were hard to handle at first (the majority of Estate Sales are of homes in which the owner recently passed away) knowing that we were going to treasure the possessions which we bought almost as much as the original owner did, made us feel better. Along with lamps and vintage coats, we almost always bought family photos, slides and 8mm home videos, which I'll post another time. I'm really excited about this post, I hope you enjoy it!




Lets start off with one of my favorites. I found these, with tons more, at the Estate Sale of a women who had been a stenographer. Being a Court Reporting student, I had to have them. The one on top totally gives me the creeps.




A beautiful camera...



and a survey of more beautiful cameras...which makes me wish I lived in a time when aesthetics mattered.


Hand-held massager "for professional use". I bought this mostly for the amazing box. It still works.


Old electric razors are a favorite of mine.



A survey of pretty stacking ashtrays which my new kitten almost broke the other night. Speaking of kitties breaking things:


This beautiful oversized purple vase is the replacement for my old, even more beautiful and oversized, green vase which our dear departed Siamese cat, Pywacket, decided to ever-so-gently sweep off the dresser when C and I weren't paying enough attention to him. I miss him so I forgive him. (I *heart* anything old & glass, btw.)



I call this photo "Best Cat In The Entire Fucking Universe (Elvis) With Dental Mold Display". You like? I like that I have a boyfriend who sees something like this at an Estate Sale and instead of thinking "Hu..." and moving on, thinks "Georgia will love this!!!".



I don't know about you, dear reader, but I am fascinated with old electrical equipment, especially when it's in its original box, and even more especially when it's an old "New Lite Vibrator" complete with attachments and funky smell that I'm going to pretend is the old plastic.



Matching crocheted bonsais? Yes please.


I bought these adorable multicolored brandy snifters at a separate sale from where I bought the matching pitcher...I've had them both for about two years and have yet to use them. Come over to my house for brandy so I can use them!!!



If you were a male, and were to pee at our house (presuming you don't pee sitting down...if you do, get out of my house) this is what you would stare at whilst peeing. Enjoy!



Purses, I have tons of purses.


Necklaces, also lots of necklaces.



You can't have a collection without something Owl, right?


I wish I could have gotten a better picture of this, it's an amazing wall hanging that says Gronland at the top...here are a couple close-ups:





When we realized how many of these we found, and how silly most of them were, we started collecting them. It's kind of a running joke now, we can't not buy them when we find them.



These are planters, but I haven't been able to find plants small enough for them yet.



Two awesome fellows.



I adore this western theme ceiling light-cover and can't believe no one bought it before we found it. I like to imagine where the kid (now grown) who once had this his room is now.



I've coveted this lamp to use at my study space. Yes, it blinds me, but it looks so cool while it's doing it.



Yet another awesome lamp. This one seems like it would be from the 30's, perhaps older, judging by the plug and the detail. (Ignore the gratuitous shot of our awesome mantel)



I have two Siamese cats, so once I find someone to sketch it for me, this is going to be my next tattoo. C brought it home for me from an Estate Sale, which officially makes him totally awesome.



Honorable Mentions: Garage Sales & Thrift Stores


I bought this painting, which now hangs above our couch, for a buck at a garage sale recently. Something about it makes my imagination run wild...or maybe I I've just had too much wine.


These shoes...oh these shoes. C absolutely hates them, which of course means they're my favorite shoes ever!!! I bought them from a cute Japanese girl at a garage sale for six bucks. The best way to describe them is; if Barbie were to go out drinking and had one-too-many Cosmo's, these shoes are what she'd puke up. It's hard to tell in the picture, but they have little silver star cut-outs all over them.*



I bought these from an old man at a garage sale by my house in San Francisco. I think I paid too much for them, but they remind me of me and my sister when we were little.



Perhaps it was the fact that I had just watched Convoy the night before, or that I was shopping with a girlfriend who insisted I buy them, but I spent a lot more then I'd like to admit on these old cowboy boots. It was worth it though, I feel totally fucking hot in them.



If I could, my house would be filled with old clocks (and cats). I've had this one for years, and although it's probably just a cheap old thing from Woolworth's, I think there's something special about it.



This poster is my pride and joy. I found her at a garage sale in L.A. and the man selling it told me that if I could guess who she was, I could have it for free. I guessed wrong but it was still only ten bucks. (I think it's Ginger from Gilligan's Island.) I'm pretty sure it's an old department store window ad for a bra.



Kitten used to show scale (and because she's adorable).



I found these two fellows at the same garage sale where I found the bra-lady. I love them ever-so-much.



I hope you've enjoyed my first-ever picture post (sorry some of the pics were so grainy). Up next: cat pictures, perhaps??? Or would that make me seem crazy?