Welcome to Mah Crib

Techno for the Pad

i want a bachelorette pad. with leopard sheets and massive amounts of technological fun shit. yeah i need things to do too when i'm not returning phone calls. you best believe. i also want a posse always chilling in some corner of the pad: playing poker, xbox, or watching music videos. hellz yah.

oh yeah and the bathroom would be forest-scented. ain't nowhere to take a dump better than the forest.

Straight Up DeMentia

well. here's the thing. i have this school blog type thing. and i can't really post on it even though i usually post on there and here about equally, but now, i'm having personal issues because my ex reads it. and i told him to stop but he will not stop. so then i read his whenever he reads mine (because you can tell) and then a giant shower of emotional shit and literal baggage rains out of the sky and falls on my head. especially when he writes about hook ups and dating (even though i write about the same thing. yeah i'm a hypocrite. who isn't?). and it's my fault. it's always my fault. i seem to have an intense and problematic history with straight men. as in, i can't be friends with any of them. any of them. and don't even get me started on more than friends. haaaaaa. that's a good one. do you want a side of irrational hysteria with that order?

straight men turn me into this raging, erratic, psychotic person. and that is not my nature. i mean, i hope it's not my nature. but apparently, there's a hidden harpy shrew in me just waiting to come out and wrestle a good shrink. so. i think instead of continually being called unreasonable and emotional, i'm taking a break from the straight menz. as friends, as more then friends. peace out, brothas. i'm sticking to small talk with my coworkers, and that's a wrap. good thing periods only last a week.

Just Another Morning Commute

first things first. the era of riding the subway with no hands might be coming to an involuntary close. unless they BREATHALYZE subway conductors or drugtest or something. or at least allow for less schizophrenic train driving. but then again, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the arena. i kind of did that. i fell on the subway today. and then this lady fell on me. yeah, it was a must-see commuter moment.

today while i was walking to work, i saw this homeless guy stretching out his stomach. you know, the seal stretch, where you look like a seal. anyway, i realize if you live outside, you gotta stretch outside. but it could have gotten ugly because i couldn't stop staring at this poor man trying to get his stretch on.

this was not the guy. but you get the point.

then i was crossing an intersection with this construction worker. and this little old lady in a VW bug just about peeled through both of us. and he shook his fist and cursed at her, and i grinned mightily at such an outward display of testosterone, and he said, "hey cutie, didja see that? she almost hit me!" and i was like "i know. it's terrible." and then we made out. juuuuust keeeeeding.


but this car with tinted windows did pass by and this guy rolled down his window so he could holler at me. i wish when guys hollered at me, i could understand what they were saying. luckily, his eyes leered it all. and i got the gist of it.


yeah so era of hook up obsession with sketchball has come to a close. the funny thing about rejection is what doesn't utterly crush you gives you a better sense of humor. i think the real charm in being the rejected rather than the rejectee is taking it in stride. getting a last laugh. and realizing he probably had the clap. time to find a new obsession. i had to follow this one dude off the train today because that's what i do. i think i should just write "slightly imbalanced" on my forehead. it's only fair to give people warning.

Surreality Bites, but it's more of a Love Nip

this is really long. OH WELL. don't read the whole thing at once. and don't say i didn't warn you.


ok first things first. the misanthropic writer from my old job who i idolized along with my fellow intern chris offered me a job today. wait. don't congratulate me. he offered me a temporary job for 3 weeks. and he wouldn't tell me what it was. i think it has to do with march madness, and i think it's so he can go to atlantic city. here's how it went down. if only all grownups could be this interesting. srsly, i hope to someday marry someone JUST LIKE THE MISANTHROPIC writer.

"On 3/14/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

the most stressful work i do all year is organizing and managing this [ncaa march madness] pool.

Do you know anyone who is looking for part time work for the next three
weeks ?

On 3/14/06, Aparna wrote:
Yes, I am.

On Mar 14, 2006, at 3:51 PM, Aparna wrote:

i'm serious! please hire me. i have good credentials.

On 3/14/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

Will I have to lock up the peach schnappes?

On 3/14/06, Aparna wrote:

No I always bring my own. Enough to share for the whole class.

On 3/14/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

okay. you're it then. good luck.

I'll be at the showboat in atlantic city if you have a question.

But I know you can handle things, what with all those schnappy
credentials.

On 3/14/06, Aparna wrote:

wait. what is the job? what am i doing? am i being you for 3 weeks?

On 3/14/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

Interesting idea for a movie.

someone be's me for three weeks and then they try to return to their own life but they they become stuck on the person they had been.

They fight to regain their lost self, wondering where you look for a lost self, lost and found boxes of the soul, but as time passes the old self becomes more and more remote, smaller and smaller played by rick morales

the rest you have to write in your ipod.

On 3/14/06, Aparna wrote:

[Mr. Writer], I would love to be you. But I lack several credentials. I think I am your number one fan (don't let that chris tell you otherwise). Ok, fine, Chris and I are collectively your number one fan. But [Mr. Writer], seriously, old buddy old pal, if you have any work for me, I would be happy to type it up in anybody's Ipod. Anybody in the entire universe. It would be of geogasmic *this is a word he used in a previous email* proportions.

The quality of my work, that is.

Please consider.

~Aparna

On 3/14/06, misanthropic writer wrote:

I think we should discuss this under the influence of schnappes.

(fin)

gmail is pooping on my brain. stop it, gmail. i have important things to cut and paste.

someone put a sign under the women's restroom that reads "LACTATION STATION." muahahahahahahaahhhh. it looks like it was made with a labelmaker. always striving to new heights here at journalism central.


i am going to call this boy tonight. and i already know how it's going to end but i have to EXORCISE THE DEMONS of this hookup. i will reserve half an hour for crying from 11-11:30pm. i read this book on random hookups yesterday because i have to write my first singles article piece on hookups (a three-part series, holy guacamole), and it empowered me as a walking vagina. it makes all boys seem like cheez whiz brains and all girls seem like drunken queen diva hos. ah well. such is zee modern life.


oh and i'm performing comedy again this week. and this week, i'm TOTALLY slated to go after all the really-good people again. and the guy right before me does this whole i-am-a-PIMP act. his freaking stage name is larry poon. if you don't believe me, go to http://www.larrypoon.com. yup. i have to follow THAT guy. i mean, huzzah and kudos to him for creating a stage character that's a ridiculous pimpologist. but geez louise mylanta jones.

larry poon himself

oh speaking of all things graphic and lewd....check out this LAFFY taffy remix featuring busta rhymes.

look at these lyrics. straight porno. this is cour-tasty of our favorite friend, BUSTA RHYMES-nasty.

"Shawty you can get up in my whip and you can bring a couple of ya friends
Make sure their waist small with a super bubble big ol ass
Where they need a lil help just to get in my bed
Where they can spread it wide open and suck on my Lemonhead
Now spread that ass a lil bit more let me get up in the coochie hole."


i don't know what's better and what's worse. candy analogies v. straight literal. discuss.

Red Card, Period. Time Out.

ok. sometimes my period tells me to say and do things that feel, how do i put this eloquently, ah ok, really really right at the time. but then i, with some strange higher power of foresight, am aware that opening pandora's box due to shed unfertilized eggs is probably not the best way to go. in fact, it can often lead to feelings of loss, regret, and general emotional instability.

and so this round of battle, i win. but i probably won't win the war. be forewarned. because at some point, each member of the female species must turn to herself and say, "do i really give a crap as to the implications of this verbal throatslash?"

and i think we all know the answer to that one. in the heat of the menstrual flow, no one is immune. i am disposing of potential life this week, and you're included, buddy. muhahahahaahaahaaaa, *throws head back again and again*, ha, ahem, ha, ahem, haaaa. *coughcough* ha. *squeak* heh. *resume semblance of normalcy.*


other victims of the female punctuation mark of doom

A Two-Leaf Clover Kind of Party

yo, my little pecans. i fergot. this weekend. i fergot to share the weekend with my little truffles. you are all little truffles, gooey centers and all. i don't know what that means. it sounded good in my head.


ok. actually nothing happened this weekend. i did go to this large st. patrick's day preparty street festival/fratfest more or less on saturday to meet people. biggest mistake ever. there were scruffy white boys as far as an eye could see. which was nice. but one couldn't make eye contact with any of them as most of them were seeing double or ten-feet-tall (that is probably 5'10'' and above in normal people perspective).


i hate these frikking hats and glasses. they make them for every occasion.

and so much upper thigh action exposed on the womenz side that one could truly get a good grope on (i don't condone illicit groping, but that shit was occurring). beer everywhere on the street, on people's brows, on people's lips, sweating out of their green accoutrements, and on their barely functioning cellphones. pieces of chicken, styrofoam takeaway containers of mexican food littered everywhere. shit was stank.

i was mainly on a quest to find a british accent. i did not find it. so i was outraged for most of the time i was there. i was stepped on several times. and i don't even get to tell a "look at me! i was so drunk!" story because i was stonecold sober.

finally, i had to do what any resourceful creative person in my circumstances would do. i followed around a large-breasted barbie-like woman for awhile to see what it would be like to be "in her shoes" (or platform pumps, as the case may be). man. was that a mind trip. yesh. yesh it was. people were hooting and hollering. looking straight down her cleavage yelling HOOPAH! and DAyaaaam GINA! and all kinds of ridiculous noxiousness. now, i'd like to say i'm openminded but none of these people were even slightly original. poor girl's boobs might just shrink from all the hacky cliches they have to hear time and again.


is this guy single? i really dig his charms. hey, is this thing on?

anyhoo, then i bumped into my drunkass friend and his friend (yay! time for a drunk story! look at me! i'm so original!) and we went and got sushi and one of those tropical flaming DRINKS for TWO. and he ended up slurping most of it through his straw and then shooting it into my and his friend's faces. yo. i had to peace out after that shit. he did pick me up twice though. and several guys and one girl fell on me during the day. so posterity will hear the story as such:

"one year, i went to this saint patrick's day street party, and i got picked up at least twice. and guys and girls were falling all over me. so yeah, i definitely had 'it' back then. best recognize, my progeny."

ISO a Recipe for BFF, Serves 4?

i sat next to these girls on the subway today. and i really wanted them to be my friends. they had such an amazing dynamic. there were three of them. and the aparna makes 4, vun-too-thvee-forrrrr vunderful friends!

when they told jokes, i laughed too. when they made eyes at each other (of the roly-poly variety), i joined in too. when they looked at me to see who the hell i thought i was, i looked away casually. i was totally on the same page, dawgz.

it's hard to meet friends in the real world. not impossible hard. but a certain chain-of-events has to occur. the initial hit-it-off followed by the hang-out. followed by the other party initiating a hang-out. followed by the mutual-exchange-of-troubling-secrets in order to seal the bond of ETERNAL FRIENDS 4eva. or at least, the bond of "if you cross me, i will shit all over your facebook/friendster/myspace wall with your coveted information."

when they all strolled off to work together, i sighed heavily and continued onwards alone. who will be the miranda to my carrie? the samantha to my charlotte? the bert to my ernie? the broom hilda to my garfield? the ren to my stimpy? the ziploc to my old cold cuts? ok. i'm pulling damage control on this analogy. system shutdown.

Quite Smi'en

yes, it's been conclusively proved. i will, and am about to, drop everything and run for a british accent. this kid could have a potato for a head and i could care less as long as said potato has a mouth. he said it's "fuckin' rubbish" that i'm not where he is right now. um, where is my transporter beam when i need it?

I am the most grounded person I know

this is what i strive to be:


does that explain anything? at all?

well, i tried.

oh, and i would be friends with him:

Homewrecker Is a Fulltime Job

things you do when you live with your parents:

i can't stop half-eating things. i just half-ate four things in the fridge: a hodgepodge salad that had beets in it, some old couscous, a sandwich, and a nectarine. i threw 3 of these things in the trash after partially ravishing them. and put one back in the fridge (the sandwich with gnawing on its edges but i tore it apart. no incisors were involved). then i realized the number one sin if your parents are immigrants from india. throwing out perfectly good food. if it ain't visually rotting in front of your eyes, you better be about to consume it, consuming it, or packing it away in a little ziploc or tupper for later.

by the way, side note, old ketchup tastes like medicine.

and we're back. so yeah i had to recalibrate the kitchen trash can via tetrislike maneuvers to cover up all the evidence. but then i realized some was still showing. so then i had to do all the dishes in the sink so that the empty sink would distract my parents from excessive scrutiny of the wastebin, and cause them to believe i had just consumed an exorbitant amount of food. if all else fails, they are watching some mad-depressing art film tonight, and their emotions will be too on edge to notice mundane things.

in any case, i'm so glad i won't be home when they get home tonight. i'm skipping out to spend money i don't have.

in other news:

i am the worst soldier pseudomama ever. my soldier has to check up on me, plus i can't find her address anywhere so i have to reask her for it. i am trifling, and she probably thinks i'm "seeing" other soldiers, which i ain't baby, i promise.

Confidence Power Protein Boost

ok i do want to toot my own horn so TOOTTOOTTOOOT.


i got selected as a columnist for this new area singles newspaper! what the flip! what the flipper?! what the oodelally?!

this is nice. i just got a totally sweet lecture yesterday about squandering my potential and being another disillusioned directioness example of generation Y-bother.

and today, the universe gives me a little solidarity pat on the head. a little tickle of his soul patch, if you will. well, thank youuuuuu. and good morning.

the weather outside is delightful. i must go frolic by my lonesome.


and furthermore, here is the beginning of a comprehensive list.

THINGS THAT PEOPLE FIND WEIRD THAT I FIND ENDEARING

1. the milk turning green after eating lucky charms cereal. think leprechauns, you buffoons.

2. people who blink a lot, sometimes to the point of spasms. it's for clarity. who couldn't use more?

3. caressing pages of books and magazines. i don't even feel the need to explain this one.

4. the smell of gasoline. it's intoxicating.

that's all for now.

One Day I'll Wake Up and Everything Will Be Exactly the Same

heyyyyyyy kiddddds.....
it's TMI time!!!

things i want:

1. sex
2. to not be hungry
3. attention
4. entertainment
5. a job

reality:

1. vibrator, or if i'm extra lucky, a hookup-commitment-phobic asshole with an std
2. i will go home and eat things that do not make me happy and are cold because the microwave is getting on my last nerve. then in anger i will eat half a box of chocolate raisins. and feel better. but society will tell me to feel worse. i will ignore that twotiming bitch.
3. my cellphone will not ring. i have nothing to say anyway. let's keep moving.
4. i want someone to do a dance interspersed with jokes. i want this someone to preferably be an overly attractive man or someone who hates men. this someone will turn out to be a gray box with many faces and nothing but experiences! and life! this will harmonize PERFECTLY with my raisins.
5. nope. still don't have this one. but lightning struck next to me today. my co-intern got one RIGHT HERE AT THIS VERY WORKPLACE. and i'm cool with someone else's success. i'm not cool however with people coming in continually to congratulate him and THEN looking at me and asking me, "hey why are you still here?" except they meant it nicely as in "you're not paid like the rest of us. why don't you get on home, little one." wow. that's so nice. goes down positively saccharine smooth with a nice arsenic kick at the end.

in some awesome news, i have rediscovered the butthole surfers.
specifically the first 30 seconds of this gem.
wtf, you might say. the best thing ever, i might add.
and i can't stop listening to matisyahu.

The Second Coming...No, Wait, the Third.

guess what?

craggy tooth flatline date guy that i met on the internet is back.

and better. than. ever.

From: FLATLINE DATE GUY
When: TODAY
SUBJECT: RE: Good Morning!

Hey, I read this article the other day, and what was weird was that it sort of tied into what I was getting at with the whole "bonfire of the trivialites" thing.

Here you go.

The article is also pretty long, but I think it's something for our generation to think about . How comfortable do you feel about the foundation you've been provided by your family? How much information do you take from the media that you feel you can actually utilize in your life?

I'm kinda interested in your perspective, actually, and I'd love to hear your response, since I sort of remember that you studied psychology. But read the whole article first. I can wait. (fin)

Oh, I'm so glad he can wait. Because some waiting will be done.

This is my favorite part: "How comfortable do you feel about the foundation you've been provided by your family?"
Translation: Why did you reject me? It's obviously your upbringing. Let's look into this together. I can wait.

oh. also. his link is like 1,000,000 pages long. eesh.

my co-intern just got offered a job here. hahahahaha. i am so useless.

Feeling in the Loop

i realize this post might come across as loopier than usual, but it's just less restrained today. i'm always this out of it.

ok it's time for the mating season to begin again. and by mating, i mean my fingers mating with the keyboard to create frenetic albeit trivial thought-zygotes to spread amongst the masses. and by masses, i mean that one kid who's clicking on random blogs on autopilot like a flight attendant ticking filled seats in the plane on her little clicker. i do what i can. we all do.

here's the thing. i found an alien. no, not a resident alien, you bigots. and speaking of bigots, did anyone see the new documentary where the white people become black and the black people become white? it was weird. it made me want to be a prize toy poodle. if that's not a privileged piece of skin to be in, i don't know what is.


i'm pretty darn convinced he's an alien. he's taller than your average bloke. probably a good 6'7''. and he's built like a lightpost, or rather, a Q-tip. a tall straight stick with a glowing swab at the top. his head glows...it positively does. and the white hair on the top of it sticks out in a celestial fashion. he walks directly and persuasively. as if he were walking upwards on an escalator to the heavenly bodies. if he's not an alien, then there are no aliens. it's just that simple. he also listens to what we humans like to call, "music" on his headphones. it's probably his communication device with his fellow trons. i respect him immensely, albeit from a distance.

i was just given some cashews by my fellow worker. before he could stop me, i gobbled them up like it was pay day and i was told i would be rewarded for the speed at which i ravished fatproteins. i am left feeling somewhat sheepish, and yet, completely satiated. awww nuts.
we are elusive, yet irresistible. we are the cashew.

the weather outside is making me having extreme flashbacks like i am a comic book heroine in a post-apocalyptic world. every corner i turn, every smell, every sound, every sensory input generates at least 4 technicolored panels of snapshot blurs of...of...of...high school?! i suppose it's because the last time i was in dc for this kind of weather was in high school. it makes me yearn for past lives lived. or rather, being ten times more insecure than i am now and twice as likely to take a stolen glance and make it last for a week. i hate raising standards.
yeah, this was my high school, WHAT.

in related news, i can't stop checking out male derrieres. i'm not even that kind of girl. wait, yes, i am. this is my favorite physique. but the most common view from which i see it is the back. yum. in line for coffee.

and i exist in a world of suitcoats alternated with casual chic. it's no new york city, but i am a girl of simple tastes and mild fashion-related snark. though i will judge it harshly if i see it and it begs for an insult or two. but when i'm on blank slate mode, nothing comes to mind.

oh wait, no wait. here's a fashion NONO that i have no problem vocalizing, and it's ALL OVER MY GYM right now so i'm taking a stand.

the male STRAPPY TANK WIFEBEATER. this was never ok, NEVER. if you see it, find a pair of scissors immediately.

Reality Check, Please!

so. reality is sinking in these days like melted butter into toast. it's so homey, appetizing, and happily predictable. almost. and then you realize it's probably coating your arteries in massive cakey chunks until one day your chest tightens up, and you see things for how they truly are. but for now. deeeee-licious.

1. i don't think i can get over my prejudice against short guys, the guilt factor of which is severely exacerbated by my own short stature. is it better to live in denial or 'fess up? i can't can't can't deal with this being at eye level with a romantic other. something just ain't right. plus whenever something's bothering me, it comes out in an underhanded spastic way. like i kept making references to height the whole night on this date yesterday unintentionally. and then this homeless man ran up to me with a flower yelling "oh lady! lady! lady!" and i shrieked with delight and took it because, you know, that's love. and then he held out his hand expectantly to my date for cash money. which the poor little guy had to cough up.


2. i don't think i can get over my pre-hatred and post-hatred of people. sometimes, i meet someone and i have instant dislike. this kind of creeps me out because it means other people experience the same thing upon meeting me. the very same thing. but then i get over it because i don't often have pre-hatred of people. it usually happens when i'm on the subway and someone sometimes rubs their dirty hands on the back of my neck. ok, not quite, but almost. but that's usually a surefire case scenario of when i hate people right away.

the other case is when i really like people and then for some unpredictable reason, the liking starts to be replaced by a festering hate. and i don't know why but it just lingers and lingers. and at first, i try and play nice. but then, i just can't take it anymore and i blurt out something horribly mean. and then, it's too late. i can't take it back. but sometimes it's better to be honest than to play games. i used to be so even-keeled. now at least 25% of the world drives me bazongas. as a psych major, i'll get to the bottom of this. i'll fix it, tweak it, and at least make it smell pretty in the end.

3. i can't stop eating. at first, it was a sandwich, some chips, an apple. but then i sadly realize i could repeat the whole cycle again a mere five minutes after completion of the first. and i realize i could repeat it once again after that, too. usually, this hungerlust would be accompanied by crippling feelings of guilt, anxiety, and myriad cameos by various fat demons. but for now, we eat. that's right, we. me, myself, and i. as i was saying, deeeeee-licious.

all of the junk, none of the guilt

Neural Pansiness: Don't Be a Victim

after numerous experiments, phone surveys, and gel electrophoreses,
my friend, dr. pal, and myself, dr. aparna, have diagnosed and categorized a new disease.

catter-gory: std
numerical code: 69fu
class: impervious to denial
organ of infection: brain
symptoms: paranoia, minor OCD with traces of SAD, dry mouth, nausea, mood
swings, separation anxiety, flaring up of dissociative phobias, ego
suppression, depression, guilt, figurative chest pain, hysteria, listening
to heavy metal and/or emo if you don't usually, PMS-like behavior
(gender-neutral), and drunk and/or hopeless dialing and/or googling and/or
emailing and/or texting and/or IMing or ALL OF THE ABOVE
name: gonorreality

yes. that's right. you read correctly. a sexually transmitted disease that operates directly from and infects the brain, the big cahuna human hard drive.

this disease is contracted from having intercourse with a person with whom you have little to no emotional connection. and expresses itself anywhere from within 5 minutes to a full 24 hours post-coitus.

if you're experiencing 3 or more symptoms, and you think you're at risk. get tested. get counseling. it's no herpes but, as we would say in the medical profession, "it really sucks."

oh yeah. and women are OBVI more prone to this disease than men. most men are carriers though.

Let Me Just Check That Off On My To-Die List

oh man. i hate frikking gmail. i just went on a cleaning spree and somehow ended up with only 39 messages left. unfortunately, i think that means at least 311 messages are gone forever including several job leads. IDIOT. i love blank space though. jobs will come and go, but emptiness is forever.

furthermore, i love working in news because you get to do fun things like check out who's really old and on the verge of death, and then start preparing their obituary. yup. that's what i'm doing today. i'm not telling who, you cretins.

oy papi. i have this devil and angel shoulder thing going on. except one shoulder is a free-love, be-one-with-how-you-are-feeling, live-in-the-moment hippie and the other shoulder is a film made in the 80s probably viewed in health class in 8th grade clearly demonstrating how our choices today have the potential to destroy our lives tomorrow. it's a righteous sunshinefest up in this piece.

yeah powerpoint, you represent.

Only the Lonely

i was listening to LONELY DAY by system of a down and making sad faces and swaying. and then i suddenly caught my coworker staring at me with a concerned look. whoooops.

but seriously, how can you not make a pained miserable face when system of a down sings this?

"such a lonely day, and it's mine. the most loneliest day of my life.
such a lonely day, should be banned. it's a day that i can't sta-a-ahhh-nd.

...

such a lonely day, shouldn't exist. it's a day that i'll never miss.
such a lonely day, and it's mine. the most loneliest day of my life.

and if you go, i want to go with you. and if you die, i want to die with you.
take your hand, and walk away.

...

such a lonely day, and it's mine. so glaaah-aad i survived."

check out the video and/or song at www.systemofadown.com unless you think they're shitty. i don't. the video is just a bunch of people walking around a city by themselves going about their day and various things are on fire. it's pretty on point.

Homeless Attitudeful Man Strikes Again!

whoa uh oh.

so i was walking to work late. as i spent all of this morning finishing up two papers related to lust and sex. i will refer to my freelance work as papers.

i am walking on a pretty deserted street but there was this homeless man sitting in a corner near the street. under an awning off to the side. and as i'm walking towards him, a businessman is walking the other way. briskly.

and suddenly, the homeless guy yells "hold your horse, motherfucker! hold your horse! you'll fucking get there. i saaaaaid, hold your horse, motherfucker!" it all came out in one long stream of diatribe. he sounded extremely cantankerous and belligerent. so as i approached him, i tried to walk by extra fast.

but no dice. i got this: "hey, little babe. why don't you come over here and sit in my lap and suck on some things?"

oh. that's nice. it's good to see i haven't lost my game.

i did pass a secret japanese-style rock garden inside a fancy-schmancy hotel though, which reinfused me with a boost of zen. i shall go sit there one of these days until they kick me out. japanese-style rock gardens complete me.

And then they will twirl their itty, bitty whiskers...

ok you guys. look at them. LOOK AT THEM.



first glance: cute
second glance: they will steal your soul and then eat your eyeballs for dessert