I just got up and running on friendster.com which is a pretty cool site because you realize how small the world is.

Now, I want to ask all you out there in rhetoric land a question:

I know we live in a society where both sexes complain about miscommunication, dishonesty with feelings and fears of intimacy and commitment. Monogamy reigns supreme and that is what we all "strive" for. But then everyone knows that everyone checks everyone else out, regardless. Perhaps this is the most basic of our instincts at work.

I'm all about monogamy when I commit to being in a relationship, and I take it very seriously. But when I'm not in a relationship, I feel guilty about exploring my options simultaneously. I worry about having an open dialogue with a bunch of guys; I'm inevitably going to end up exploring things with the guy who can gain the most ground the quickest as far as establishing that "something," but then what do you say to the other guys? Sorry, but you moved too slowly? Maybe I think too much. But most likely it's because I've been watching the Bachelorette. But she's kind of lucky in a way. All the guys understand that she's going to explore her options. And they're too scared to play their macho possessive bullshit because they know they'll lose the girl and there aren't any other girls around to buffer their egos from bruising. There's just such a weird thin line between being perceived as a slut or player and just someone who wants to see everything that life has to offer. I don't sleep around. Hell, I barely even date because it's so much less complicated when you keep things platonic. But I do like to meet a lot of new people and for once I'd like to do it without feeling guilty about it.

I have decided today that I might start writing fake journal entries from someone else's point of view just for creative practice. It'll be like military exercises, except less exciting and no Canadians get hurt.

There's this family that I'm friends with that happens to have built the building that I currently live in. While they were building it, the matriarch of the family passed away from cancer. It was a sad affair, especially considering what a wonderful family they are. Well, my neighbor downstairs is a total bitch. She's a pathological liar and martyrs herself to get attention. She makes up complaints and all her complaints end with something like this: "blah blah blah I'm a wench I'm a wench I'm a wench...and then I was so upset, I cried for hours." Yeah. Totally. Psycho. She used to complain if I made any noise, such as my 240 lb. lil' brother walking across our living room. Well, I was at a homeowners meeting last week where she was complaining to everyone about how back in the day, the guy who had built the building had "called me a pig. I have lived in America for many years and I have never witnessed such behavior! I was so upset that I cried for hours."

Now, I have heard both sides of this story and I happen to know that he didn't call her a pig and that she was pulling this story out of her ass and making up her own details to fit into the landscape of Warped Crazy Lady Land. Everyone was "ooh"ing, sympathizing with her and it made me sick at the possibility that intelligent people could fall for this self-pitying (and pathological!) crap. But then she continues and says, "They're horrible people. I bet they gave her the cancer!" I snapped back, "Who?" Just because I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She said, "That poor woman! I bet they gave it to her because they're such terrible people. I bet if I had to live with them, I would get cancer, too." I had been trying to ignore her but at this point I had to say something so I said, "I don't think that's a fair thing to say." And by "fair thing," I meant "non-crazy bitchy HUMANE thing, you crazy liposuctioned motherfucker." So she continues, saying, "I would get something like, colon cancer, if I had to live with them." Huh??? Is your anus particularly sensitive to insult? Does its immune capabilities weaken in the face of imagined name calling? And Stupid Lady...are you telling me that even hearing those words coming out of your mouth doesn't shock your frozen heart into a jumpstart? I'll give you colon cancer. In the form of my foot up your ass. Just give me a second while I put on some heavy boots.

I give you this anecdote as a character sketch because...

TODAY

I had written a letter and given it to each unit in this building about how the homeowners association should now require formal written proposals and budgets for all spending. Lately, they have been spending money at whim on the most random things, like a $300 plant, and hell, that's my friggin' money too! Well, she called today to complain that I was being too noisy on my little mini step machine (the portable ones with just the steps). We had "words" and she, being the martyring little snot that she is, tries to tell me when I can and can't exercise. I, being the sarcastic little snot that I am, tell her to write out her schedule so I can make sure to work my exercise schedule around it. So she's going off on her bitching, and out of the blue, says, "And furthermore, don't you dare write me letters and try to intimidate me with your big words." I had to supress giggles. Apparently, she doesn't understand multi-syllabic words. And furthermore, it's not freakin' about her! I had the strong urge to retort, "The universe is heliocentric, Anna. It doesn't revolve around you." But I realized it was a lost battle because she wouldn't have understood what "heliocentric" meant.

So it ended when I called her pathological (which Webster Dictionary defines as: 1. pertaining to or caused by disease; 2. Unhealthy or compulsive behavior, ie pathological liar ), which I'm sure she didn't understand because I said it twice and she glossed over what was clearly a huge insult. Then I chuckled while she was in mid-sentence then told her, "I'm busy. I'm watching TV," then hung up on her. And went back to watching Celebrity Mole.

SHE SUCKS.

If I were a superhero, I would want to be one who never had to urinate. Because I imagine, it's pretty hard to quickly get out of those spandex one pieces when you've really gotta go.

New additions to my line of designer greeting cards:

I'm sorry I ran your car off the road. It's just that I thought you were your mother.

and

I'm sorry that I beat you. It's just that I love you more than anyone else does.

A Romantic Poem -- by Ryan of The Bachelorette

My name is Ryan, I put out fires
I like dogs and football, I dislike liars
I went on TV to find a wife, because I am
cute
My mom told me that and...she plays the flute.

I'm going to win this game because I make Trista cry
With my beautiful poetry about love and blue skies
And dolphins and sunsets and things that rhyme with Cat
Like Fat and Hat and Iguana
And Beer Can and Bat

I may not be smart or witty
Or do anything but write bad poetry
I look like a caveman
Without a vocabulary
But I'm a whore on TV
Because ABC needs the ratings.
I hope that Trista picks me
Because my family doesn't know I'm gay.

The following is an open letter to Rick Fox of the Los Angeles Lakers.

Dear Mr. Dick Fox:

It has come to my attention, via a bombardment of fawning media, that you fancy yourself the best looking man alive. Perhaps this is the result of too many post-game groupies cooing at you out of naivete because you remind them of their fathers. Perhaps this is the result of too many yes men complimenting the size of your gat. Perhaps this is because your unnaturally white teeth blinded a beautiful woman out of her good senses and she consented to marry you, thus raising your goodlookingness stock by misguided association. I have taken it upon myself to inform you that not only are you an aesthetic boiling blister on the collective face of malekind, but I am also requesting you to stop fancying yourself an actor, and please remove your narcissistic smarmy image off my TV set.

In a petition of sorts, I have made a list of all things better looking than you (in no particular order):

1. Every NBA player outside of Sam Cassell and Popeye Jones
2. Every US Senate Member, both living and deceased
3. Jared from Subway
4. The stain on the ceiling in Room 206 of the Las Vegas Howard Johnson
5. My Ass

It is my sincere hope that you take this letter to heart and reconsider your national compaign to stroke your ego. Any future endorsement obligations requiring media representations should be forfeited to Mr. Taye Diggs or Tiki and Ronde Barber.

Thank you for your cooperation.

Warmest Regards,

3am Wanderer

I was thinking that if anyone knows who I am, I would hope that they would tell me so that I would stop posting these quite naked things about my life. Like the obsession with porn, you say? Yeah, specifically that. But y'all know, I'm just kidding. I don't have an obsession with porn. I really don't know where that mysterious charge on my credit card bill every month comes from...But seriously. I don't have a problem with porn.

So I'm contemplating whether or not to use this for my journal, or if I should create a seperate one. I'm not sure. All I know is that there is no reason for me to still be up at almost 3am. But I sure do like the sound of myself typing.

I was crying earlier today because of what my mom told me about my uncle saying. That it's obvious that I don't have a lot of confidence and don't sell myself. That just totally freaked me out. I wonder why. I just hate this industry. It's so bullshit. And then John called and I didn't want to talk to him because it was obvious that I had just been crying. Maybe I just need to get out of this town. It makes me unhappy. But then again, I probably have the ability to be unhappy anywhere.

I'm so pissed off that my Tivo cut off the last few minutes of Alias. And I missed the KISS! I'm so pissed off. I don't know whether to be more angry at my TiVo, the Super Bowl, or at the fact that my life is this deeply influenced by TV.

And you wonder why I don't have a boyfriend? What's that? You don't? Oh.

Yo yo yo! So I'm new. I hope this is the website that Lauren was telling me about. Otherwise, I may have just accidentally joined some weird porn ring and now my name and email is on some FBI list of weirdos to track. But then again, I should have made that list years ago (hi, guy down in the Joe's Plumbing van sitting outside my building! Yeah, you know who I'm talking bout. No, not you ugly bald guy in the bad suit...the agent sitting next to you).

We've got Chinese New Year coming up and I'm contemplating going up north to celebrate. They say that the upcoming year (Goat) is good for people born in the year of the horse. I sure hope so. And plus, Saturn is finally out of Gemini in a few months. And have I been working hard? Hardly working, I would say. This obsession with basketball is getting the best of me. I find myself blaring rap music and leering at hot black guys. I guess the saying goes, "Once you go black, you never go back...until your parents threaten you." What do you expect from conservative Chinese parents? I'll bring home whoever the heck I want. Even if it means I'm sleeping in the backyard because the German Olympic Porn Team is unacceptable company to bring to Sunday dinner. Now I bet people think I'm obsessed with porn. I guess I've said it twice now. (think about kittens, think about kittens...)

Today was a good day. I hate my neighbors. Tutored then thought about going to some Super Bowl parties but then started feeling antisocial (aka FAT). So I went to the gym and watched some of the game from there. But frankly, I really didn't give a damn. I should probably start back up writing soon. I've been pretty damn lazy as of late.

For the record, I think Kathy Griffin is the Mole. And the kid from Dinotopia looks like a girl. And Joe Millionaire is an idiot. And Russ on the Bacholorette is the devil. He's a scary possessive freak! And lastly, I am watching way too much reality TV.

FUN FACT: Last week I had dinner with Elizabeth Berkley from Saved by the Bell (or Showgirls, if you're a pervert).

Seriously. It was surreal. Hey, does anyone have a boyfriend I can borrow? Just...you know...sometimes I get lonely...