goodbye summer...?

september went by real quick.
nothing really is happening with my case with my accident. the lawyers and doctors and paper pushers are all in this circle jerk of retardation, and theres nothing to be done to speed up the process.

i had a rolickin good time at the american medical marijuana association's competition for strain of the year! i met ed rosenthal and rolled the fattest joint ive ever smoked with high times writer kyle kushman.

kyle kushman

this weekend was one of the best ive had all summer. i went to LA on wednesday for an interview, then went out dancing with a friend in hollywood. thursday, parky and i went to noho for sushi, and ended up at this joint called tokyo delves. the sushi was meh, but it was a badass party the whole time!

showin whats up at tokyo delves

friday, parky and ivan and i went to the rainbow room, where the guy who played leatherface hit on me nonstop, and then proceeded to spit run dmc rhymes at me til i left. saturday, parky and i got some HUGE 34oz beers for $7, and went to the pink floyd 3d laser show at laserium

mmm..breakfast

long time, too lazy

the title says it all.

so much has happened these last 2 1/2 months since i came home. if you arent familiar with it all, here's the cliffsnotes version:

brother gets in horrible accident, i freak out and leave france within 24 hrs.
get home, hardly to the fanfare i hoped for.
week later, found job.
2 weeks later, found place to live in downtown sj.
3 weeks later, and 3 days before i start my job, i got run over by a car, essentially killing any chance i had of having an awesome summer :(

so basically, this entire summer ive been spudsin it up on my couch. LAME!
but this post is not to update or complain about my current situation.
it is simply an apology.
im sorry for being a lazy lucy and neglecting my rarely read blog, and i promise to be more active in this publicly yuppie-fied narcissistic form of 'dear diary..' and feeble journalism.
pictures and regular posts to come.

ladies can show pride too!

Bo: Our playoff beards!
Me: I love it...but why are they ginger?
Bo: BECAUSE WE'RE GINGERS!! AND DONT ASK QUESTIONS!!!

on the daily

today was great-at least so far. i woke up to the sound of the rain on my camper while i was snug as a bug in a rug in my sleeping bag. didnt have to get up until 1. then i had the bar to myself for about 2 hours. its hard to find a nice quiet place to yourself around here, and getting the bar to yourself is damn near impossible. but here i am, sitting infront of the woodburning stove, feet propped up toasting and a sweet old dog by my side.
life is good.

miss list

so im not as homesick as i used to be. im not sure if thats a good thing or a bad thing. but i do still crave hearing the familiar voices of the people i love and seeing certain things. the old cliche "you dont know what you got til its gone" is so true.
i fucking hate cliches.
heres my list of things that pulls at my heart strings, in no particular order, except for the first.
DUH.

my dylie boo

mexicans!

mmm..number 16 with.. *DROOOOOOL*

and lastly but DEFINITELY but not least, TAPATIO.

i realized after i put these up that alot of the pictures are weird close up face shots. a littttttle creepy. yeah. sorry. and if you arent up here, then i probably dont miss you. nahh im kiddin. its just that all these were on my computer and im too damn lazy to troll through myspaces and facebooks for pictures.

GOD VERDOMMT!

God Verdommt=god dammit
translated literally from dutch, "god verdommt" [hot fer-domt], means 'god refuses flatly'.
i love literal translations.

me doing the touristy thing. thats the dordogne river behind me.

so i been workin my butt off here at camp moto, and ive already lost some of that nasty british weight! yay! in other news, i got dumped. aint no thang. really.
when i got here, i [stupidly] proclaimed that the only way i would get up on the bar and dance with the stripper pole was if i was 10 beers in and def leppard was on. well surprise surprise, friday night it just so happened i was TWELVE beers to the wind and my song came on. i of course honored my promise, but required martijn, a cutie patootie dutch boy to get up with me. soo fun. he stripped more than i did, and when i refused to take off any more clothes, renske jumped up and whipped off her top. pictures to follow.
yowza.

im very pleased my hair is getting longer. woohoo!

olly. cutest.dog.EVER.

dont mind the dead guy in the background.

on saturday, martijn and gerard [the dutch brothers] and i went to rocamadour. the road there is dotted with caves on either side, offering curious caves and undiscovered nooks and crannies. we passed one of these nooks, and sharply pulled over to explore. hidden from sight was a gorgeous oasis of red soil walls, ferns and ivy crawling up ancient trees. it felt like we were the first to discover this treasure, but the wall told us differently. we added our marks and continued to rocamadour.

yeah i did it. so what.

Bienvenus à la France!

i havent felt as giddy as i did the moment the plane left english soil in a loooong time. sure, i was on the cheapest flight available [meaning ZERO leg room and $5 waters], but it didnt matter. all that mattered was i was leaving england with its horrible people and weather.

i was so nervous about immigration.

when i went from dublin to england, there were these huge lines of people, hardly any of them spoke english, big men with bigger guns, drug sniffing dogs[!], and a bevy of immigration officials who hate their job. but the airport in bergerac [im not even sure you can call it an airport its so small], had none of that.

i stepped off the plane onto the [sunny and warm!] runway, followed the other passengers into what looked like a barn and waited in line. seriously, this room was about 20'x20' had black garbage bags for insulation, a slide from a window for the luggage pick up, and one immigration guy. there was NO security, NO police, NO cameras, and people waiting for passengers could walk in and wait in line with them. ive never seen a smaller airport or such a lack of security, even pre-9/11. but there was still the task of getting a visa. i obviously couldnt say i was coming to work, so i made up bullshit story about meeting a friend in marseille, then travelling through france. i said all this very quickly, very valley girl, and the immigration dude gave me a funny look and stamped my passport. i found out later that he doesnt speak english.

my gite and the surrounding 800 year old cemetary

the inside of my gite [its an old church]

the view from the patio, over looking the empty[for the moment] pool

pietier was waiting to pick me up. shoulder length hair, hip square glasses, he looked the type to run a motorcycle campsite. on the way to camp moto, he took me the backroads so i could see all the chateaus in the region. the land is absolutely breathtaking. we soon got to the site, and i met reinske, his wife. her english isnt that good, but everything she says is hilarious and filled with enthusiasm.

reinske, pietier, and the bar

lets see- im gona try an cliffsnotes this because im getting tired and so much has happened in the past few days it would take forever to type.

rocamadour

i went to rocamadour and saw the black mary. rocamadour is an old hermitage built into the side of a mountain, and the black mary is this really really old statue from 300AD. i learned how to roll cigarettes[not very well though], how to play darts with igor, their friend from holland[unlike rolling cigarettes, i am very good at darts], got into a bilingual argument with and old man[him speaking french, me speaking english, neither of us understanding the other] over who was next for the bathroom, and got really, really drunk. for free. a couple of times.