Blog of Magic Cheese

I got the Tomato Alligator bear from Rob for Valentine's Day!

<3

I went clubbing with some friends last Friday night for the first time since I moved to SF.

It was great! I can now say with certainty that should I ever go clubbing in San Francisco again, it can only be better than that club.

I understand that I have somewhat eclectic music tastes (dancing to really loud psytrance is not everybody's idea of fun) but I'm generally able to accept most types of beats save a few.

And I do like loud music. I think that a heavy beat that you feel in the pit of your stomach is vital to getting the whole cathartic thing on and getting into the dance.

I am not into music played so ridiculously loudly that I can't hear myself shrieking in the ears of the folks I've just met, while I have earplugs in, while we sit at the furthest table from the dance floor.

And I really, really don't like hollow fake pop gangsta rap/hip hop. I like underground hip hop. I like rap. I don't like poser music. It's very much like listening to vapid top 40s and pop songs, only with more obscenities.

And really, if you're DJing in a club in the middle of Chinatown, what on earth could possess you to play

All you white girls and you skanked up HOS
Getcho skanked up booties and yo pussies onna FLO

... which I swear was an actual lyric that I heard on the dance floor.

Then they started 'My Humps', which is when this skanked up ho walked her vagina right off the dance 'flo'.

From now on we are only going to clubs and pubs that I choose so if things suck, I can at least kick myself to vent.

I briefly had a pistachio shell collection when I was young.

I'd never seen the ocean, but I'd read in all of these books about kids having shell collections, and I wanted one too.

My parents corrected me, but even now when I eat pistachios sometimes I get the urge to polish the shells up and put them in my pocket.

A vase of 20 roses was on my desk when I walked in Wednesday morning. Then in the game, I found a wrapped present with more flowers in it for my little pirate. Rob is making this the most romantic Valentine's Day ever.

I am not worthy.

I'm glad this is the last weekend I have to live without him. (Barring his untimely death.) Go, visa, go!

How could I have forgotten that wushu people were so masochistic? God, it hurts every time I sneeze. Somebody help me.

I got a new piece of free furniture off of craigslist. This time it's an enormous solid wood dresser.

It's turned out to be more work than I thought; the finish isn't just worn, it's chipped in places, and the inside of the drawers are questionable. I'm disinfecting and cleaning each one scupulously, vacuuming them, then sanding away the mold and discoloration by hand. I'll probably finish them in linseed oil and let them dry for a few weeks before I go to work out the outside.

It's really fun. I like sitting here on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, fresh air flowing into my room, sanding away with the laptop nearby, blasting Gataka and crooning Death Cab alternately. (See? I told you I would do it. (Thanks, Aaron!))

Newish stuff that isn't well-made means little to me. I really dig solid furniture. No matter what you do to it, it can last you a lifetime. As you pour your time and dedication into it, it becomes more valuable and fits your style and way all the more. Maybe I'll get to bore the snot out of my kids one day with stories of my mismatched collection of craigslist furniture. One can hope!

I'm glad that the folks at the Thai restaurant don't think I'm a wuss and they apparently take me seriously when I ask for my dish to be hot. But why, why so much more seriously than my white roommates? The other two dishes were tasty and didn't cause a wink. My noodles sear the back of my throat and make my lips burn. So good. So painful.

It's discrimination and I won't be having any of it!

The CEO walked into the office this morning right as I was smashing my forehead with a pad of post-its and talking to the computer screen between my teeth.

I looked over and froze. We locked gazes and blinked a few times.

He moved on without a word.

It's going to be one of those days.

As I lie on the couch under my office coverlet here at work, the smell of cool ventilated air blowing on my face brings back memories of summer in Sacramento, and of tents built around the air conditioning vents, made with quilts that kept the muggy heat on the outside. I remember dozing off in the afternoon, surrounded by a moving current of cold air. I inhale the soporific warm smell of down and cold filtered air, and, comforted by the memories of peaceful and worry-free summers, I drift off.

I think I've found another favorite place to nap.

Happy!

Pope blessed fish sandwiches scare me.

Interesting week at work. Downed a lot of rum. Woke up sober after about 4 hours, which is the usual. The headache is new, though. Shit, one of the disadvantages of getting older.

I walked into the bathroom this morning to find the mirror tagged with a sticky that read,

"No need to look here: you're already beautiful.
-Rob"

<3

Also, Odwalla orange juice + San Pellegrino sparkling mineral water is effervescent tasty-good!