Puple Rain and organ harvesting

It's been a few weeks since I've updated - I'm not so good with the blogging, lately. Especially since I do this primarily for my grandmother (Hi, Granma!) and she's joined Facebook, which I update a little more frequently than this blog. I am going to continue blogging, though. I've discovered that I enjoy telling little stories here and I like having good memories of my friends and family so easily accessible to them*

The last three weeks have been mostly about job-hunting, anyway. I've had extrordinarily bad luck when it comes to employment this year and, unfortunately, the last job has not broken the streak. I'm still angry with the whole thing so I'm not going to get into it - you can only rant about the same thing so many times and all my friends have already been subject to my job-related Righteous Indignation. I'm even starting to bore myself and when you're as self-absorbed as I am, that's not an easy thing to do.
Last week was a break for me. The adorable TAFKAM bought me a ticket to fly out and stay a few days with him and I had a wonderful time. We had lots of Good Talks, went to museums and galleries, I helped him make Art, we went drinking with friends, played with a Wii, discovered that we are just as competitive now as we were when we were six, proved that my Wii Fit skills are infinitely superior to his, and visited our favorite cousin. It was a fantastic time. He's offered his apartment to me, should my financial situation not improve soon, and I'm seriously considering it. We get along well, I really like San Francisco, and it would definitely help my personal economic crisis. The thing that keeps me from packing up and shipping out is knowing that in San Francisco, I could never afford to live alone. I love living alone. I love it so much that I'd live alone even if I married. Future Husband will ideally be cool with this.

Back in LA again, I've resumed the hunt for Job, hung out with friends, and last night, attended a Purple Rain party. I'd only been invited the day before and I've never seen the film so instead of dressing like Prince, I wore a purple skirt, black top, tights, heels, and a tiara

Cover of Purple Rain (Two-Disc Special Edition)

. Nothing says 'costume party' like a tiara, I always say. Or, rather, have started saying since last night. My date was a guy I've just started seeing and this was the first time I've met any of his friends (not counting the very drunk rocker dude who happened to be at the same place we were on our first date. Very Drunk Rocker Dude recognized my date while I was in the restroom and, much to my date's dismay, stumbled up to our table for a chat. When I came back to the table, my date was trying to convince him to go away, hissing, I'm on a date. Seriously. I can't talk now. On a date! I liked the VDRD, thought he was funny and, in a strange way, made the date that much more fun.)
Meeting a guys friends for the first time is usually pretty nerve-wracking. Meeting them while they're all dressed as Prince during the Purple Rain era is magical. I had a fantastic time, ate tasty cheese with crackers, and finally got to see something everyone my age seems to have seen a million times. One of the Kids In The Hall was there, too, and because I expect everyone to be my personal performing seal, I was expecting lots of funny stuff from the guy - he's a famous comedian, fercryingoutloud - but he was pretty quiet. Sat in the corner, watched the film with minimal commentary, left with his posse when it was over. Apparently, he saves the good stuff for when the cameras are rolling.

Today, I have no idea what I'm doing. A girl I used to work with that I've barely spoken to in over a year sent me a text message a couple of days ago, asking me to show up at a certain adress at four o'clock today. Wear whatever I want, bring whomever I'd like, and no, she isn't going to tell me what it's all about. Mysterious. I'm fairly certain I won't be kidnapped by white slavers or have my organs removed and sold in the black market but just in case, I've given the address to a few reliable friends. Should they not hear from me by the end of the day, the troops will mobilize.

I'll let you know what happens, assuming, of course, nothing happens to my fingers.


*And me - my feeble brain can only retain so much. It seems six months is about my limit when it comes to Remembering Things. Every now and then, I'll look back over something I've written, say, last year, and be surprised at what I was up to then.