NINJA HAULER: 2005 Nissan Xterra - $12900 (Ronan / Lake County)

For those of you who want to learn a little more about me, here's an interesting fact: I'm a craigslist addict. I love craigslist. About 90% of my apartment was furnished by craigslist. Even today, I would click around to see what random items random people are posting in random cities.

I came across this interesting ad in Seattle, WA and felt I must share it with the world. It gave me a good laugh for about 30 minutes at work. Hilarious. I always appreciate wit and good writing. I'd totally contact this person just to meet him. Enjoy!

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Date: 2008-11-19, 10:04PM MST

OK, let me start off by saying this Xterra is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women). My friend, if it was possible for a vehicle to sprout chest hair and a five o'clock shadow, this Nissan would look like Tom Selleck. It is just that manly.

It was never intended to drive to the mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Linens & Things. No, that's what your Prius is for. If that's the kind of car you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. I mean it. Just stop.

This car was engineered by 3rd degree ninja super-warriors in the highest mountains of Japan to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous nancy boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a real man doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what the hell On Star is).

No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 265 HP engine to outrun the cops. It's got special blood/gore resistant upholstery. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself. The Xterra also has an automatic transmission so if you're being chased by Libyan terrorists, you'll still be able to shoot your machine gun out the window and drive at the same time. It's saved my bacon more than once.

It has room for you and the four hotties you picked up on the way to the gym to blast your pecs and hammer your glutes. There's a tow hitch to pull your 50 caliber anti-Taliban, self cooling machine gun. I also just put in a new windshield to replace the one that got shot out by The Man.

My price on this bad boy is an incredibly low $12,900, but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me you'll give me $5,000 for it. That's liable to earn you a Burmese-roundhouse-sphincter-kick with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt? Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Coldplay concert anymore.

There's only 69,000 miles on this four-wheeled hellcat from Planet Kickass. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry your name. It will live on as a monument to your machismo.

Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then contact me. I might be out hang-gliding or BASE jumping or just chilling with my ladies, but I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about a price over a nice glass of Schmidt while we listen to Johnny Cash.

To sweeten the deal a little, I'm throwing in this pair of MC Hammer pants for the man with rippling quads that can't fit into regular pants. Yeah, you heard me. FREE MC Hammer pants.

Rock on.

have yourself a merry little christmas

I have yet to start my Christmas shopping. I don't even know where to begin. Gosh. I'm in such a bind this year.

I went to a couple holiday parties this past weekend. The first one was with SweetNSour, and her company threw a casino-themed dinner. It was so fun! I played craps for the first time and totally got addicted to it. I was hesitant to play at first because I felt I should save my beginner's luck for Vegas. Anyway, I didn't want to miss an opportunity to learn, and after that night, I can safely say that I understand how easily people fall into gambling. It moves so fast and it's hard to keep track of how much money you have because you keep thinking, "Okay, I'll win it all back in this next roll." We traded in our chips for tickets to put in the raffle. The prizes were really good, and we thought we had a good shot, but we didn't win. Dangit. Oh well. It was a lot of fun nevertheless.

The second party I went to was practically a wedding reception. It was in a ballroom at the Hilton hotel, there was a live band, and there was food/alcohol served all night. Pretty grandiose. There were tons of people there. From jeans to prom dresses, there was qute a diverse group of people. I walked in with my friend, and he wanted to check into his hotel room before we entered the party. We walked up, and the concierge took a look at both of us before saying, "We upgraded your room, sir." My friend and I looked at each other in astonishment and were like, "Awesome, thanks!" Initially, a room with two queen beds was reserved in case I stayed over due to a night of drunken debauchery. However, my parents were in the vicinity, and I asked that they pick me up instead since we had to wake up early the next morning for my grandpa's 80th birthday.

Anyway, after my own company dinner last Wednesday (of which I will not post about - partly because it's beyond blog-worthy embarrassing and partly because I don't remember at all the rest of the night), I knew to limit myself to one or two wine glasses. Tops. We got the key and went upstairs to check out the room. We walked all the way to the end of the hall, and I kept cracking jokes about how they wanted to keep him away from the rest of the guests. Finally after reaching the end, I remember saying, "Wow! Corner suite! Nice!" We walked in, and there was one king size bed smack dab in the center of the room. We stood there for a moment in confusion, and then my friend said, "Uhh.. good thing you're going home because this could've been really awkward."

We wondered how he got "upgraded" from two queen sized beds to one king sized one. In the end, we figured the concierge was trying to help us out by getting us the honeymoon suite. I was surprised there were no balloons or rose petals leading up to a bubble bath in the restroom. Hahaha. Oh man. It was funny.

Both parties were good times. I love the holidays. Thanks, friends, for thinking of me when you were looking for company. I hope you had as much fun as I did. <3

moving on up

Tomorrow is the big move to the new building. I started at this company over two years ago, and I was one of three people in our office. The corporate office is in Santa Monica, but they opened a new office here in August of 2006. Since then, the CEO had bought a prime piece of real estate and started construction on this phenomenal building. It's quite the eye-catcher. We finally will be moving into this beautiful piece of architecture on Monday.

This week, I've been packing up my things, dusting off the desk, and saying my goodbyes to friends I've made here in the past couple of years. While I'm excited about the new building, saying farewell to people you've been seeing every day for a number of years is never easy. I'm sad to be leaving them.

Anyway, it's been pretty busy at work with all the moving. I'm so not cut out for manual labor, but it has to be done. It'll be like moving from middle school to high school. I'll have to learn where all my friends will be sitting, where the bathrooms are... new desk, new cafeteria, new everythings. And my desk? Why, on the penthouse floor right next to the window that faces the skyline of Austin, of course. What's nice is that I'm totally serious.

I love my job.

gratitude should always be expressed in verse

I started off my Monday morning the same as usual: tired and unwilling to work. Hahaha.. I guess that's pretty much how every morning of mine goes. However today, I was pleasantly greeted by an interesting email from a friend here at work. She took off work last Friday to go to the Gators game, and I helped her out with some stuff while she was gone. She’s such an unusual person. In a good way. I don’t think I’ve met anyone else quite like her, but her happiness and optimism reminds me a lot of how I used to be. I love this about her. I feel that once I get back to being on track, we’re going to become really close friends.
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From: Kimsey
Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 8:03 AM
To: Janice
Subject: RE: Contract Approval Scan

I would like to express my gratitude for you in a poem. Please enjoy (and/or laugh)

A poem for Janice:
Why are you so kind?
Always, with others on your mind
A selfless friend to the end
My gratitude to extend

A pretty face
With such grace
So much more grace than the rest
I tell you Janice, you are the best

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From: Janice
Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 9:10 AM
To: Kimsey
Subject: RE: Contract Approval Scan

On the Contrary (a poem for Kimsey)

You need not say
Another word
For your own kindness
Is much deserved
Of cheers and laud
From knights and kings
And merry little elves
Among other things
So e’er you need
Another favor
Kimsey, dear friend
My pleasure shan’t waver.

the holiday

"I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wondering what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door.

And after all that, however long "all that" may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade."

does this muumuu make me look fat?

I went shopping with Nurse this past weekend on Black Friday. Speaking of Black Friday, I read that despite our economic turmoil, people spent more money this year than they did last year! That means, people have money - they're just scared to spend it! This is good news. I was hoping the following Monday would be a good day for the market, but then I read on December 1st, the National Bureau of Economic Research declared officially that the U.S. is in a recession. Freaking great. Should I start job hunting now?

Anyway, I digress. Last Friday, I went shopping with Nurse. We were in the fitting room of BCBG waiting for an open room. Lucky for us - it is prom dress season.

Crowds of little girls were flurrying about in the fitting room asking each other their opinions on various dresses. It was like Tyra Bank's Project Runway and MTV's Sweet Sixteen Gone Wild! What's annoying about these fitting rooms were that they all faced a wall of mirrors. No floor length mirror inside the room at all. Brilliant. You have to open the door and use the mirrored walls so that you (and everyone else in the hall) can examine your outfit. As Nurse and I waited, we couldn't help but eavesdrop.

There's nothing more entertaining than listening in on a bunch of shallow and egotistic girls critiquing each other. It's definitely a secret guilty pleasure for all females. The ugly is very appealing for some reason. We shrink from terror, yet we can't manage to get ourselves to look away. There's a devilish fascination behind it. Somehow, we extract pleasure from horror. (I've kindly added the whispering comments Nurse and I made in parentheses.)

A bigger than average girl wearing a lavender colored gown fit to make Ellen Degeneres look like a drag prom queen and asking her tiny friend:
"How's this dress? Are my hips too big in it?" (Everything's too big in it!) Her friend replies, "Nooo, I like it a lot! It looks great." (She should not be wearing that. If that were a good friend, she would definitely veto that idea. Oh right, her friend definitely looked better in it. I agree, yes.)

A squinty-eyed girl with poofy hair asking her sister about a tight pink short length dress that had an extra piece of fabric sticking out diagonally in the chestal region as if to catch the falling crumbs of an hors d'oeuvres snack:
"What do you think? Is it better than the red one?" (Dude, where are her glasses? Why's she squinting? Can't she see herself? Dear Lord, please tell me she can see herself!) Her sister replies while staring curiously at the oddly shaped top, "No, no, I definitely like this one better." (Really? She looks like an alien! Why? Why would anyone do that to a perfectly cute dress? That was unnecessary and totally unflattering. Next dress please.)

An tiny Asian girl probably around her mid teens shops with her friend and mom. She's trying on an adorable white and tan haltered dress that was probably a size 00:
"Well mom, is this one alright?" (Wow, she's tiny! Is she old enough to be shopping here?) Her friend, of course, says, "I think it's cute. You should totally get it." (I dunno... she might be able to pull it off with some alterations... maybe...) The mom examines the girl by making her turn around in circles about three times, contemplating on what to tell her daughter, and then finally decides to say, "No" and shakes her head in disapproval. (Good job, mom. Way to observe that the halter is too unflattering on her because she still lacks the means to support that kind of dress.)

Seriously, girls. When you're suffocating yourself trying to squeeze out of a dress, it's a no. When you're brighter than the spring flowers of a Tim Burton film and not going to a costume party, then it's a no. When you're constantly having to pat down certain areas of the dress and pull down the bottom of the skirt, it's a no. And when you're sucking everything in with your life because one little exhale may cause an explosion of silk, satin, and cotton everywhere... need I say more?

To Nurse and friends - if I ever look that bad in something, please spare me the embarrassment and tell me the truth. The truth hurts, but it's better than a festering lie that can quite possibly cost me my job and, worst of all, my pride. Sure, I've gained some weight. Let's face it. Aging is a bitch. Metabolism doesn't get any faster with time. But trust me, it's for the good of mankind.

When people ask their friends, "What do you think about this dress?" what kind of response are they looking for exactly? If you doubt yourself, shouldn't that be reason enough not to get the outfit? Or are you just fishing for compliments?

I mean, there's no need to get ugly about it. There are times when sugarcoating is appreciated, and there are times when it's just best to lay it all out there. "Let's up it a size, shall we?" Or, "I don't think this dress is really flattering on you." Or, "maybe we should go to a different store." And in extreme cases, four simple words will do, "Oh. Dear. God. No."

Thank you in advance.

time and punishment

Time, you little vixen. You've tricked me again.

Everyone always tells me I need more of you. But how much more can I take whenever everyone else wants you to themselves? You are a fickle angel. One minute you move too slow, and the next minute you're much too fast. They say you heal all wounds, yet it seems the more I endure of you, my heart beats with increasing pain.

He tells me he can't be with me because he needs you. He always says he doesn't have enough of you to share with me. Poor little Time. Always the scapegoat, aren't you? Always the third wheel. It's so easy to take the blame since we can't see or touch you. We can only fathom the ghostly traces you leave behind.

You devil, Time. You'll be the death of me.

Nevertheless, I will wait. I will wait for you.

When will it all end?

Only you can tell.

waking up

"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."

uncomfort food

Thanksgiving was great. Yesterday, I was starting to think that Thanksgiving is going to bump Christmas off as my favorite holiday. Crazy, right?? I never thought this was possible. The reason is because during Thanksgiving, everyone is home, and there's nothing but good family fun with lots of food. There's no pressure behind anything. You don't have to worry about buying gifts for people and stressing over whether they'll like it or not. There's no holiday shopping frenzy. And the weather is just mildly cold.

I ate so much food. Not only did I eat a lot, but I ate way too fast. It felt like a big rock of food was passing through my system. I was in so much pain with my food baby. I felt like I was drunk off food. Without one ounce of liquor in my system, I couldn't get up, I wanted to fall asleep, I could barely keep my eyes open, and focusing was a physical impossibility. It was awful. I had never felt that disgusting or uncomfortable in my life.

I managed to get up and stumble to the bathroom. My sister was in there, and I had to wait as patient as I could for her to get out. I waited for about 10 minutes before knocking on the door and telling her to hurry up. While she was washing her hands, I barged in and locked her in there with me. For a minute, I thought about regurgitating my food, but I didn't have my toothbrush, and I didn't want to have that gross taste of acid and greenbean casserole in my mouth. My sister left, so I just sat on the john. I tried to focus on something else... anything... in order to transfer my attention away from the dreadful pain in my stomach. Twenty minutes of sweat and tears later, the pain subsided to a bearable stage, and I felt okay to get up and walk around again. Forget about Bill Cosby and the kids, I dropped off the entire Rockets team at the pool.

My grandma's house has this ghetto toilet where if you throw even one piece of toilet paper in, it will clog. No doubt. So, I cleaned up, flushed, and washed my hands twice with soap. Then, I hear a funny noise coming from the plumbing system. I look down, and everything was still there. "Shit," I thought. Literally. I closed the lid and searched frantically around the bathroom for something to fix the problem. Of course, I find nothing.

Quickly, I walked outside to look for help. I brushed through the crowd of relatives wondering who would be able to help me without exposing this scandal to the entire family. Finally, I spotted my grandpa. Good ol' grandpa!! He's at the stage in life where nothing is embarrassing anymore! This was great! Plus, he'll know what I need to do. This was his house after all, so who would be a better advisor? Plus, he was by himself. Perfect! His hands were wrapped behind his back, and he was waddling around in his house slippers, fleece vest, and oversized beanie hat observing all his children and grandchildren. He is so cute.

I quietly slipped beside him and whispered, "Grandpa, where's your plunger?"

"Huh? What did you say?" he asked.

"Your plunger. Where is it?"

"What??" he repeated, cupping his right hand to his ear.

"I clogged the toilet. I need to find the PLUNGER."

"I can't hear you."

"I NEED THE PLUNGER!"

Everyone stopped, turned around, looked at me, and burst into laughter.

Good ol' grandpa. Sure enough. He didn't make fun of me or anything. He had a straight, innocent look on his face just as I thought he would, oblivious to the chaos around us, and simply said, "Oh! The plunger is outside. Follow me."

As I walked grudgingly behind him, my cousins were laughing and pointing at me, and my head was hung down with shame and humiliation. There really was nothing I could say to ease the situation.

Grandpa got me the plunger and even offered to help. Kill me now.

Good job, Christmas. You are still number one. Don't worry, Thanksgiving. You are still... dare I say it?... number two.

it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

Sure enough, this past weekend was a time of drunken debauchery and carefree rendezvouses. I love my friends so much, and not a day goes by that I don't talk to at least one of them. I'm so fortunate. Seeing everyone together brought back so many memories of our college pasttime. Good times.

There was a point when I looked around and saw friends clinking their glasses together, friends hugging with their arms wrapped around each other, people laughing, people smiling, and for some reason, all I could think of was, "I wish he was here." I texted him that I missed him. I know. I know. I can hear half of you right now screaming at me, "Whyyy!???"

Why not? If I don't tell him anything, it hurts. I do tell him something, and it still hurts the same. I might as well tell him the truth about how I feel. I know there are a million reasons why I shouldn't, but there are a million and one reasons why I feel I should.

Naturally, we go into a text war Saturday night. In the end, he texts, "You can't keep hanging on. There's great guys out there." Let's just stab my heart now and get this over with, shall we?

I waited, and I don't hear back from him. I started to wonder if I ever would.

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She doesn't hear from him for the next couple days. And then two nights later, she sees those familiar yet distant numbers on her phone.

Of course, she picks up.

They start off with small talk. He goes on to ask what's wrong and why she's still acting this way. He tries to get her to see his perspective by asking, "What would happen if I moved to Chicago? California? Where will you be in the next year?" They went around and around in circles arguing why they should and shouldn't be together. He says it can't work. She promises it can. This is how it's always been. She the optimist, and he the cynic. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Finally, they tire, and it gets quiet.

She sniffs back her tears. She swears she can hear him smile.

He whispers, "I miss you." Words that never cease to sting her heart with nostalgia. For a tenth of a second, a ray of hope shines down on her. And then he adds, "But... "

As expected, the light vanishes, and she is in her dark room alone again.

"... we just can't be together right now. If you knew who I've become, you wouldn't even love me anymore."

She pleads, "Yes, you've changed. So have I. We've both changed, and it's okay. But I know your heart is still the same."

He scoffs, "That's what's changed the most! If only you knew, you wouldn't love me the same way."

Perplexed and frightened, she asks, "What do you mean? Are you saying you don't love me anymore?"

Hesitating, he takes a while to answer. Her heartbeats increase with each second of anticipation.

Finally, he sighs, "My heart is just broken. It's all over the place right now."

She frowns and with every breath of truth behind her, she says, "I'm so sorry." If only he knew the lengths she would go to prove it.

He laughs to himself, and says, "No, that's not what I mean...

...you have the only good part left."

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So what happens now?