Get By.

Fight Me. I dare ya.
Bursts of road rage. A whole lot of deep sighs. Indignancies run rampant and the dark clouds have somehow rolled into the SoCal landscape. Weird.

The Follies of February.
I had the unfortunate experience of becoming the target of a racial insult while driving in LA. In the middle of Koreatown. Admittedly, I flared up a bit, wanting to literally stop, get out of my car, and exchange a few words with the man. And by words, I don't mean words. I'm sure it would've been a sight, all 5'3" of me.

Get By.
I forgot how much I used to like Kweli. He is a lyrical genius.

This morning, I woke up
Feeling brand new and I jumped up
Feeling my highs, and my lows
In my soul, and my goals
Just to stop smokin, and stop drinkin
And I've been thinkin - I've got my reasons
Just to get by, just to get by
Just to get by, just to get by

We are in the doldrums of February, that haze of slush and fog and thaw and refreeze and thaw cycle. It trudges on, removed from the anticlimax of January and dragging its feet until the promise of spring in March.
You want February, indeed, just to get by.

My calves hurt. My cousin once said to me that it was because when I walk I am probably one of those rushed lazy calf-lifters.

The Situation.
This is a new entry. I would like to call this section something else. Any suggestions? If only Jersey Shore didn't have to have crazy cartoon character people with kitschy nicknames. I'm sure Wolf Blitzer wasn't happy.

A late-night bite with a bunch of friends. You ever find yourself at the section of the table with the socially inept members of the group? It can be pretty frustrating. Not to mention the eternal turn-off factor of realizing some mutual friends are, the tweedledee-and-tweedle-duh, and the awkward fish. Initially, you wonder how that dynamic has transpired, such that you are the only one making the effort at conversation. Sometimes I suspect it boils down to pure social laziness. NERDS!

Private party. Guy walks over to a group of women, interrupting to introduce himself. Women seem to be cool with it, and Guy proceeds to zero in on the bright-as-light-blonde woman. The other two in the group are becoming painfully aware of the fact that they are not needed in this conversation. They stand by so as not to be rude. Guy proceeds to keep talking and all three women wonder when he'll reveal himself to be a walking cliche. If you can't talk to a collective group of women, engaging and listening to each person in conversation, then don't go and interrupt them. No, you didn't rock our world, babe. Get a grip.

COTW[crush-of-the-week]

Benicio del Toro. Dark and looming with street-cred, yet a touch of the debonair.

XOXO cookies covered in dark chocolate icing. Available now, at Porto's. Can I have my money now?